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The Mystery of Tumult Rock 

BY 

LOUISE PLATT HAUCK 

Author of “Missouri Yesterdays,” 

“Pa and Ma Stories,” etc. 




Kansas City, Missouri 

BURTON PUBLISHING COMPANY 


Publishers 



Copyright, 1920 by 
BURTON PUBLISHING COMPANY 
Kansas City, Missouri. 

All rights reserved. 







TO MY HUSBAND 






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CONTENTS 


fliitimniiuiitmmiiK 

Chapter Page 

I JUST PAT!. .... 9 

II THE CAMP . 22 

III THE VOICE . 33 

IV THE BULLET . 43 

V DISCOVERIES . 57 

VI THE BRIDGE . 70 

VII THE HOUSE ON TUMULT. 95 

VIII NIGHT . 119 

IX “IN THE HOUR OF DEATH”. 134 

X TWENTY-FOUR HOURS . 144 

XI THE CAVE . 101 

XII AGNES . 183 

XIII ARMSTRONG GRIT . 198 

XIV BILLY . 211 

XV GROWING PAINS . 226 

XVI SURPRISES . 233 

XVII MINOR MYSTERIES . 251 

XVIII JUST PAT! . '.... 265 





















The Mystery of Tumult Rock 


CHAPTER I 

JUST PAT! 

Fm Pat—just Pat. If you’ve followed the Tu¬ 
mult Rock case you probably know me as Patricia 
Armstrong, seventeen-year-old daughter of Wil¬ 
liam Armstrong. 

It pretty nearly killed Billy to have the sole 
heiress of the house of Armstrong looming up in 
big letters on the front page of most of the papers 
in the country. I didn’t like it myself, but I was so 
busy and excited while it was happening that I 
didn’t pay attention to anything outside The Camp; 
and afterwards—well, of course afterwards I didn’t 
care about anything. 


9 



10 


The Mystery of Tumult Rock 


I’m going to tell all the things that need to be 
told about me so as to get them out of the way be¬ 
fore the real story begins. I’m seventeen, as I said, 
and my hair is curly and I have several dimples 
and a rather nice pair of brown eyes. I haven’t 
any mother or any family except Billy. If you’re 
shocked at my calling my father Billy I can only 
say that he taught me to himself just as soon as I 
could talk. As for the rest, I’m something like that 
person in the poem whose father called him Wil¬ 
liam but the fellers called him Bill. Miss Lou Pet- 
tipier calls me that “harum-scarum, long-legged 
daredevilBilly calls me his side partner; Pryor 
Humphry calls me, “You Pat;” and Burr—well, 
Burr calls me—just Pat. 

Now I’ll tell you how I happened to be at The 
Camp when the murder occurred. I was waiting 


The Mystery of Tumult Rock 


11 


for Billy one evening on our front veranda when 
he and Pryor Humphry climbed out of the car. 
I’ve known Pryor ever since I used to sit in his lap 
and put his watch to my ear to hear it tick. He’s 
a good old sort if he has got lots of money. He’s an 
old bachelor too. 

“Hello, you Pat!” he called. “How are the boys?” 

He always said that to me because it used to 
make me furious when I was younger. Now I just 
look at him with calm indifference and pretend I 
didn’t hear him. But he laughs, just the same. 

“I’ve brought Pryor out to dinner, Pat/’ Billy 
said. “Hope you’ve got something good.” 

“Roast chicken, and asparagus and stuffed toma¬ 
to salad and frozen orange pudding,” I told him, for 
I’d heard Martha planning it that morning. There’s 
a pleasant fiction in our house that I am the house- 


12 


The Mystery op Tumult Rock 


keeper but I’d like to see anybody else housekeep 
while old Martha lives with us. She’s black as the 
ace of spades and weighs 230 pounds—but gra¬ 
cious! she can cook! 

“Fair enough,” Pryor said. “If only Martha 
doesn’t forget those hot biscuits of hers.” 

Now you’ll see by that we aren’t really a fash¬ 
ionable family for of course I know that dinner 
should always be served with just bread or dinner 
rolls. I love my home and it really is beautiful but 
Billy and I don’t go in for high society at all. We 
just have friends. 

Pryor ate as though he were breaking a hunger 
strike. Hie always does though he has a chef and 
a butler and all the rest of the trimmings to a meal. 
When he’d eaten three helpings of the orange pud¬ 
ding and was settling back in his chair with his 


The Mystery of Tumult Rock 


13 


coffee and one of Billy’s best cigars, he said some¬ 
thing really interesting. 

“Pat, how’d you like to spend the summer at 
The Camp?” 

“Oh, I’d like it!” I cried. “Billy, too?” 

“Of course Billy. In fact I’m only asking you 
to insure Billy’s presence.” 

I made a face at him but didn’t give him the 
woolling I usually do, I was so anxious to hear more 
about it. 

“Is it finished—The Camp? Furnished and 
everything?” 

“Done to the last curtain,” Pryor said. “But 
see here now, Pat, you’re not to expect too much. 
If you’ve been looking for one of those thirty- 
raomed, tiled-bath-with-every-suite, servants-quar- 
ters-to-the-rear affairs, you’re doomed to disappoint- 


14 


The Mystery of Tumult Rock 


ment. The Camp is just a big, one-storied log build¬ 
ing, with small bedrooms opening from a central 
sitting-and-dining room. Pm taking Ah Loo up to 
cook for us and we’ll probably pick up a houseboy 
in Denver. It’s back to the simple life for me this 
summer. Think you can stand it?” 

It sounded heavenly and I told him so. Pryor is 
a real woodsman, not one of these pretend sports 
that have to have a guide to find the nearest trout 
brook. 

“Who else is coming—besides Billy and me?” I 
asked after a little. 

“You’ll never guess.” Pryor began to chuckle. 
“Our honor guest is no other than—Hobart Con¬ 
way.” 

“Not Mr. Conway, the famous pianist?” I gasped. 
“Why, Pryor, I didn’t even know you knew him.” 


The Mystery op Tumult Rock 15 

“No more did I. That’s one advantage of being a 
genius. You don’t have to bother with introduc¬ 
tions and invitations and formalities like that. If 
you hear of a place that suits your rheumatism and 
your vacation plans, all you do is to notify your 
happy host that he is to be your happy host. Con¬ 
venient, isn’t it?” 

“Pryor! You don’t mean that Mr. Conway in¬ 
vited himself?” 

“He did, though. He heard me telling Myers 
about The Camp and he got interested. Seems he’s 
been looking for something in a higher altitude than 
any of the hotels are built. I guess The Camp’ll be 
high enough for him,” Pryor went on proudly. 
“Near’s I can find out it’s the highest dwelling in 
the Rockies, if not in America.” 

“Hope his heart’s all right,” I said wisely. Pve 


16 The Mystery of Tumult Rock 

•a* 

been to the mountains lots of times before so I knew 
mine was all right. 

“See here, Pryor,” Billy cut in suddenly, “what 
about his playing? Seems to me I’ve heard those 
concert people get up their programs in the sum¬ 
mer. Won’t we bother him, coming in and out of 
the room?” 

Pryor looked a little sheepish at that. 

“He spoke of that and—the fact is, I’ve agreed 
to have a sort of studio—a one-roomed log shack 
put up for him about a quarter of a mile up the 
trail. He’s going to rent a piano in Denver—wants 
to pick it out himself as we go through—and then 
we’ll not bother him nor he us.” 

“I thought of that too.” Billy and he looked at 
each other and grinned. I knew my father’s opin¬ 
ion of classical music and Pryor himself wasn’t any 


The Mystery of Tumult Rock 17 

too fond of it. They like me to ripple out waltz 
tunes, and old fashioned songs and things of that 
sort but the only time I went with Billy to hear 
grand opera he was so bored that he took out a pen¬ 
cil and notebook and began to figure some lumber 
contracts he had on hand. 

“It’s the last touch to a perfect summer,” I said 
delightedly. “Just think of living in the same house 
with a man who has played for kings and queens. 
Maybe he’ll talk about them. Maybe he’ll dedicate 
one of his solos to me. Maybe—” 

“Have you ever seen Conway?” Pryor said dry¬ 
ly. “I thought not. He’s forty-five, if he’s a day, 
and the top of his head is as bald as an egg. No 
romance there, you Pat. Tell you what I’ll do for 
you though. I’ll ask—in fact I have asked Burr 


Thomas.” 


18 


The Mystery of Tumult Rock 


“Nice of you. Though I don’t see what connec¬ 
tion it has with me.” I held my head as high as 
I could and worked with all my will to keep from 
blushing. 

“Stop teasing her, Pryor,” Billy said. “My little 
Pat is far too young to be interested in Burr Thom¬ 
as or anybody else. In fact I’ve noticed lately that 
she seems to dislike Burr. How about it, Pat?” 

“Oh, I don’t dislike him—exactly,” I said casual¬ 
ly. “He treats me as though I were still in rompers 
sometimes but I reckon he means well.” 

They went on talking about the summer plans 
and pretty soon my cheeks cooled off. Isn’t it fun¬ 
ny how little men, even fathers, know about girls? 
Here was Billy, who’d almost thought my thoughts 
with me asking me if I disUJced Burr! Well, I’d 


The Mystery of Tumult Rock 


19 


let him go on thinking I did. It would make it 
easier for me. 

By and by they got around to the subject of a 
chaperon for me, as I was afraid they would. Pry¬ 
or had asked Miss Lou Pettipier, it seemed, and 
she said the altitude, both of the country and the 
company, was a little too high for her. 

“I don’t want a chaperon,” I protested. “I’ll 
take Tina with me and that’s enough.” 

“Tina!” Pryor snorted. “She’s been the aider 
and abettor of all your mischief since Martha turn¬ 
ed her over to you as a maid. A sweet chaperon 
she’d make!” 

Pryor never did approve of Tina. Her real name 
is Antionette Roncevalle, though where Martha ever 
dug it up is more than any of us can tell. Martha’s 
last husband, at least the last husband she had be- 


20 


The Mystery of Tumult Rock 


fore Tina was born, was named Judah Jones, but 
Billy said when Mother went down to see the new 
black baby (this was two years before Mother died 
and one year before I was born), Martha said her 
name was Antionette Roncevalle, and they’d call 
her Tina for short. In Missouri we never pry into 
these little matters the way I understand they do 
farther north; so pert, funny Tina has been, offi¬ 
cially, Antionette Roncevalle all her eighteen years. 

I was rather scared for fear Pryor might object 
to her going with me but Billy said in that dear, 
comfortable way that makes him so nice to live 
with, 

“Oh, I think Tina and I between us, to say nothing 
of her old uncle Pryor and the good looking Burr, 
can manage to keep Pat out of trouble.” 

Wouldn’t it be interesting if we could have snap 


The Mystery op Tumult Rock 


21 


shots of future events which bear on our present 
remarks? If Billy, sitting comfortably at the head 
of the table in his dining room at home, could 
have glimpsed his Pat, crouching under a boulder on 
the wildest, roughest peak in the Rockies, with a 
three thousand foot drop in front of her and a 
murderer in back of her, I wonder what would have 
happened to that tranquil expression of his? IPs 
a sure thing I wouldn’t have gone one step in the 
direction of The Camp and if I hadn’t—well, I don’t 
know that I’d stay away if I had it to live over 
again. 


CHAPTER II 


THE CAMP 

Billy and I went alone to The Camp. Billy had 
a big deal on which delayed him, and though he 
urged me to take Tina and go on ahead I wouldn’t. 
I’d rather travel with Billy than with an, 3ne I 
know. He’s so jolly and knows so much about every¬ 
thing we see and never minds opening and shutting 
windows a dozen times if I want them opened or shut 
and is altogether so dear and delightful that I feel 
sorry for all the girls who can’t have him for a fa¬ 
ther. 

All the house party was there when we got to 
The Camp. Pryor met us with a cart and a pair of 
burros. We were fifteen miles above Terminus, a 


22 


The Mystery of Tumult Rock 


23 


little mining town that had two trains a week run 
in there, stay a couple of hours and then turn 
around and go back. It was awfully thrilling to 
think of being so high up and it grew wilder and 
more beautiful with every mile we climbed. When 
we got to The Camp and stopped outside for a look, 
I fairly squealed with joy. The peaks rose about 
us like great, towering giants. Forests of spruce, 
pine and hemlock made a dark green blanket every¬ 
where. There wasn’t a human habitation in sight 
except the low brown building that was Pryor’s 
Camp. 

“Too lonely for you, Pat?” Billy asked. I just 
smiled at him and took his hand to climb out of 
the cart. I never saw a place in my life that ap¬ 
pealed to me so. Afterwards people who came up 
there out of curiosity asked me if I didn’t feel the 


24 


The Mystery of Tumult Rock 


ominous note in the atmosphere right away. I 
didn’t. I felt a great sense of exhilaration and ad¬ 
venture. The adventure part was—at least it very 
easily could have been—prophetic. 

Burr came out to meet us and with him a man 
who, I knew right away, was the world-famous 
pianist. He wasn’t very exciting looking, it was 
true. His eyes bulged a good deal, and his head 
shone (I’d have worn a wig if I’d been he) and he 
was getting an alderman’s stomach. But he was a 
celebrity all right and I meant to cultivate him 
while I had the chance. He was very nice and cour¬ 
teous to me. Said the place needed a woman’s pres¬ 
ence, and spoke of the sunset on my curls, and 
altogether he promised well. 

Burr was just like he always was—grown up 
and big-brotherly. He squeezed my hand and said, 


The Mystery of Tumult Rock 


25 


“Well, Pat darlint, have yon come up to play 
about the Rockies with me?” 

“With you and Billy and Pryor and perhaps Mr. 
Conway,*’ I said with a questioning glance at him. 

“Conway’s got to work,” Burr said. 

Did you ever? Conway! And he a world-famous 
personage! It’s perfectly true, as Miss Lou Petti- 
pier says, there’s no reverence in this new genera¬ 
tion. 

The Camp was perfectly splendid. I had a dear 
little room all smelling of fresh pine and Tina had 
another opening out of mine. Hers and mine and 
Billy’s opened out of one side of the living-room 
and three others for Pryor and Burr and Ml*. Con¬ 
way at the other side. The kitchen and the China 
boy’s room were in the back. 

That night we all sat around the fire—and if 


26 


The Mystery op Tumult Rock 


you think a big, roaring fire in July sounds funny 
you ought to try it after night up that high with¬ 
out one! and told stories. Mr. Conway told the best 
ones, all about his concerts before the court of 
England and the decoration that the Belgian king 
had given him for concert work during the war and 
things like that. Burr subsided after a while and 
wouldn’t talk at all though he’s seen some pretty 
exciting times himself, having been in the air serv¬ 
ice in France during the war. I was longing to 
ask Mr. Conway to play but was afraid it would 
seem pretty cheeky, but just before we broke up to 
go to bed he opened Pryor’s grand piano, which he 
bought in the first place for me to strum on before 
he knew Mr. Conway was to be of the party, and 
played. I won’t try to describe it and anyway 
you’ve probably heard him; every music lover in 



The Mystery of Tumult Rock 


27 


America has, either in person or on the Victrola so 
Til just say it was the thrillingest thing I ever 
heard and I went to bed calling myself the luckiest 
girl that ever lived to be in the house with such 
music. 

I congratulated myself a little too soon however. 
The next morning Mr. Conway disappeared right 
after breakfast and stayed away till lunch time, 
practicing in his studio. I cherished a plan to 
hang around outside and hear him but when I hint¬ 
ed at it, he nipped it very promptly in the bud. He 
said the thought of being interrupted was just as 
bad to him as the being interrupted itself and he 
wished I would promise him I wouldn’t come with¬ 
in earshot of the studio. Well, it seemed to me 
that it was pretty nervy asking me to keep off a 
mountain that I had as good a right on as he had. 


28 


The Mystery of Tumult Rock 


But Billy said considering that there were seven 
peaks within sight of The Camp and that I might 
take a different walk every day for a year, he really 
didn’t think I would miss that particular section. 
Of course I assured Mr. Conway that wild horses 
wouldn’t drag me that way. 

Now this is the way we spent our time at The 
Camp for the first w T eek or so: Mr. Conway put in 
all his mornings and a part of the late afternoons 
at work in his studio. Billy and Pryor and Burr 
and sometimes Tina and I went fishing. Mostly 
though we explored on our own account. It’s the 
most fascinating place in the world, I think. If 
you know where to look you can find banks of 
snow with ripe wild strawberries at the edge of 
them. There are columbines, harebells, wild asters 


The Mystery of Tumult Rock 


29 


—every lovely tiling a girl could want to bring in 
to beautify the big camp living room. 

There are old prospect holes too and caves and 
shelves under ledges of rock. Pryor said it was 
simply suicidal for me to tramp about that wild 
region with only Tina for protection but Billy said 
what in the world could hurt me? We were too 
far from civilization to fear man, the only animals 
there were about were chipmunks and squirrels and 
if I would always take a stout staff with me and 
test any doubtful Looking footing he didn’t see any 
reason why I shouldn’t roam as I pleased. That’s 
the way Billy’s brought me up and I think it’s a 
very good way, myself. It teaches you to be quick 
and self-reliant and resourceful, and goodness knows 
I needed all those qualities before we got through 
with the Tumult Rock affair. 


30 


The Mystery of Tumult Rock 


I didn’t get very far in my acquaintance with Mr. 
Conway. He was polite enough—goodness, I should 
say he was! He’d leap from his chair to open a 
door or pick up my handkerchief. I hoped it would 
be an object lesson to Burr. He treated me as 
though I were a kid brother of his. Of course when 
I had on my climbing suit and wanted to go some 
place where most young men wouldn’t want to both¬ 
er with a girl that attitude of Burr’s was very con¬ 
venient. But when I had on my white chiffon frock 
after dinner, with a blue ribbon through my curls 
I could have used a little of that door opening 
treatment from Burr. Of course I know I’m not 
like one of his eastern young lady friends who 
spend their winters in Florida and their summers 
yachting or Bar Harboring and who say “idear” 
and “eyther” and “I mean to say.” I’m a Missouri 


The Mystery of Tumult Rock 


31 


girl, and proud of it. I’ve studied things with 
Billy that would make those eastern girls open 
their eyes, I reckon. Civil engineering and com¬ 
mercial law, for instance, and astronomy. And I 
know several other things too. I can dance and 
swim and I know what clothes to wear and how to 
wear them. 

I loved Burr’s eastern accent though. He took 
every word he spoke and washed its face and brush¬ 
ed its hair before he sent it out into the world. 
Mine just sort of slip and slide out, all mixed up 
and running into each other. The Missouri drawl, 
Burr calls it, and he says he likes it. I hope he 
does. 

Tina was having the time of her life. She says 
she’s never had enough sleep since she was born 
and when I’d go out for a tramp she’d wait till she 


32 


The Mystery of Tumult Rock 


was out of sight of the house and then she’d pick 
out a nice clear space under the trees and curl up 
and go to sleep on the pine needles. I’d collect her 
on my way back and we were both suited. She 
bothered me when she was along because she was 
always afraid to jump across rifts in the rock or 
wade through a mountain stream or things like 
that. 

Well, now I have the stage all set for you and 
you can see what we did that first week in camp. 
It was lovely and interesting and peaceful but that 
was all we had of that kind of thing for the rest of 
the summer. 

So now I come to The Voice. 


CHAPTER III 

THE VOICE 

One night Hobart Conway was late to dinner. 
Usually he was the first ready, all bathed and dress¬ 
ed and ready for an evening’s rest. But tonight we 
were sitting down and Ah Loo was taking the soup 
before he came rushing in, still in his knickerbock¬ 
ers and with his black eyes and white teeth shining 
with excitement. 

“What’s up?” Pryor Humphry asked him. “You 
look as though you’d discovered gold under the 
studio.” 

“I have!” he said. “Just that. Liquid gold— 
molten melody! My God! what a voice! Velvety 


33 


34 


The Mystery of Tumult Rock 


softness! Divine flexibility! The skill and finesse 
of— ! ” 

“Oh, I see/’ Pryor said. “You’ve been trying the 

new records. That Galli-Curci aria—” 

> 

“Records!” Mr. Conway raved. “Records! It is a 
real voice, I tell you—” though of course he hadn’t 
told us anything of the sort. “A woman’s voice— 
the most glorious voice I ever heard. It floated 
through the windows of the studio as though it 
were coming straight from heaven.” 

“Maybe it was,” Burr said. “I don’t know where 
else it could come from. There’s no hotel nearer 
that Terminus and only the burro path from there.” 

“What did she look like?” Billy asked. 

“I didn’t see her. When I got to the door she 
was gone. But let me tell you about it. I had 
finished my work and was running over the ac- 


The Mystery of Tumult Rock 


35 


companiment of Solvejg’s Song—from Peer Gynt, 
you know—■” he looked at us and we all nodded 
wisely though we didn’t know at all. “I hadn’t 
struck half a dozen chords before the room seemed 
suddenly filled with melody—divine melody that 
thrilled and inspired me and somehow terrified me 
all at once. Almost without knowing it I went on 
playing. Presently I realized that the words were 
French—the singer was giving it the true operatic 
interpretation. The voice flowed on and on and 
.only when I reached the end did I come out of my 
dazed condition enough to realize that a human 
agency was responsible for what I had heard. I 
fairly leaped to the door then—it, like the windows, 
stands open always when I’m playing—but there 
was no one in sight. I searched the woods but I 
didn’t find so much as a footprint.” 


36 


The Mystery of Tumult Rock 


“You wouldn’t, on the pine needles/’ I told him. 

He went right on as though I hadn’t spoken. 

“I came back and played again—the Laughing 
Song from Man.on Lescaut—Lakmd—everything of 
the same range I could think of, but it was of no 
use. The Voice was gone.” 

He looked as though he were about to burst into 
tears. 

“1 wonder who it could have been,” Pryor said 
thoughtfully. “A woman alone in these mountains 
at dusk—there are no parties—camping parties, I 
mean, around here or we would have come across 
them in our explorations. It must be some singer 
from Terminus who lost her way. Funny she 
wouldn’t come into the studio and ask for shelter.” 

“I’m not sure it was a human voice,” Mr. Con¬ 
way said. “Oh, you may smile but I tell you there 


The Mystery of Tumult Rock 


37 


was a quality about it that I never heard in any 
woman’s voice before.” 

“What did you say, Burr?” I asked. 

“I said, ‘assorted nuts,’ ” he had the nerve to tell 
me. “Pass them, please.” 

We talked about The Voice all evening. Every 
time Mr. Conway described it there was some new 
superhuman quality about it. I really think he con¬ 
vinced himself at last that he had been visited by 
some angel of inspiration as a reward for his own 
wonderful playing. Burr and Pryor got a little 
tired of the subject and went off to play cribbage 
and Billy got out his flies and began to sort them 
for the next day’s fishing. But I kept Mr. Conway 
talking as long as I could for it did sound so 
mysterious and delightful. I begged him to let me 
sort of hang around the studio the next afternoon 


38 


The Mystery of Tumult Rock 


and see if I could get a glimpse of the singer but 
he got so excited and begged Billy so hard to forbid 
it that I said all right, I wouldn’t. 

Of course the next day I was all on tiptoe to 
know if the singer had come again. She had! Din¬ 
ner was nearly over this time when Mr. Conway 
came in more excited than before. The Voice had 
given a regular concert this time—Strauss’ Voice 
of Spring, The Shadow Song and I don’t know what 
else. She sang nearly everything Mr. Conway 
played for her and it was ten times more lovely 
than the day before. He hadn’t seen her though. 
She got out of sight before he could get to the door. 
I pointed out to him that if she wore a dark dress 
this would be easy enough among those shadowy 
pines. All I got for my suggestion was a reminder 
that I had promised not to spy upon the studio. 


The Mystery of Tumult Rock 


39 


Burr came over to me as I was sitting by the fire 
looking into the flames. 

“Look here, Pat, don’t get yourself all excited 
over that Voice. I think Conway’s stringing you 
about it.” 

“Why, Burr, it’s perfectly easy to see that he’s 
excited himself. Of course it’s real.” 

“Well, the artistic temperament is beyond me,” 
he said. “I’ll bet no serenader would get away 
without my seeing her,” he boasted. 

“I think he doesn’t want to see her,” I told him. 
“Perhaps she’s old and ugly. All the charm would 
be gone then.” 

He shrugged his shoulders and didn’t say any 
more. 

It went on like that for three days more. Every 
night Mr. Conway came late to dinner but he’d stop- 


40 


The Mystery of Tumult Rock 


ped talking about bis singer. He admitted she was 
there, and said he hoped gradually to lure her in¬ 
side the studio. I tried to question him about her 
but he seemed to resent my interest so I let it drop. 
Billy and Pryor acted as though they were a little 
ashamed of the affair, though I can’t imagine why. 
I know Billy even called me aside and told me not 
to pay too much attention to Mr. Conway’s fancies 
as musicians were notoriously fanciful. I think 
he didn’t believe there was a Voice but I know 
there was because I heard it myself. 

I wasn’t spying—not at all. I perfectly intended 
to keep my promise to Hobart Conway and it was 
nothing in the world but an accident that led me 
in the direction of his studio. To begin with I 
left my compass in The Camp. Mostly I can tell 
directions without it, but this afternoon was cloudy 


The Mystery of Tumult Rock 


41 


and great masses of vapor were rolling down off the 
peaks and confused me. I got all turned around 
at last and just blundered along, trying only to be 
going down and not up. 

It was right below me that I first heard it—The 
Voice. I couldn’t see anything for the mist but I 
could hear—goodness, but I could hear! It was 
all that Mr. Conway had said it was and more too. 
It made me want to laugh and cry both at once. I 
didn’t do either. I just scrooched down on the 
pine needles and listened as hard as I could. 

I’ve heard Alma Gluck and Galli-Curci and a lot 
of the biggest singers, but never did I hear any¬ 
thing like this. Maybe it was partly because I 
couldn’t see her and partly because the pines rustled 
such a soft, sweet accompaniment. Anyway I 
haven’t words to describe it. Just think of harps 


42 


The Mystery of Tumult Rock 


and singing waters and bird notes at dawn and 
everything else you know that is lovely in sound 
and y.ou’11 get a faint idea of what it was like. 
When she stopped I truly didn’t know where her 
voice left olf and the mountain silence began. 

I came down that mountain a mighty quiet and 
impressed girl, I can tell you. I don’t know how 
I got back to The Camp, but I did. I felt like 
apologizing to Mr. Conway and making Billy and 
Burr do it too but I couldn’t without letting them 
know I’d broken my promise even though it was 
entirely accidental. I listened to Hobart Conway 
talk that evening with a new respect. It did seem 
significant that he should have been singled out to 
hear such music. It was significant too, if we’d 
only known it. 


CHAPTER IV 

THE BULLET 

Now I come to the night Mr. Conway didn’t come 
home. 

To begin with it rained all morning and our musi¬ 
cian couldn’t go to the studio to practice. He’d had 
several touches of rheumatism—it was because of 
that he wanted to get into a high altitude—and he 
was afraid to venture out in the rain. So he fidget¬ 
ed about the living room, now and then touching 
the piano, but mostly just fidgeting. I knew he 
wished Pd go away somewhere so he could play but 
there wasn’t any place for me to go except into my 
bedroom and I didn’t want to go there. Billy and 
Burr and Pryor had gone fishing. I wanted to go 


43 


44 


The Mystery of Tumult Rock 


with them but Burr— Burr, mind you!—thought it 
was too wet for me, and I’d better stay in. I didn’t 
see what business it was of his and I told him so. 
Billy smiled and Burr just asked Tina to take my 
cap and sweater away and—well, I stayed. 

I tried to talk to Mr. Conway. I thought I’d lead 
up to the Voice and then confess that I’d heard it 
too, but he was so curt about it I decided not to. 
Lunch came at last and about three o’clock the rain 
stopped and the sun came out. Mr. Conway tore 
up the trail as though he couldn’t wait another 
minute. 

He didn’t come when we sat down to dinner. We 
were used to his being late and outside of a mutter 
from Ah Loo who hated to have things get cold be¬ 
fore they were eaten, nobody paid any attention to 
his absence. When we had finished and the men 


The Mystery of Tumult Rock 


45 


were smoking their cigars around the fires, I asked 
Prjor if some one ought not to go up and see why 
he didn’t come. 

“He might be sick, or something.” 

“Oh, I hardly think so. He’s making up for lost 
time, that’s all.” 

“But there’s no light in the studio,” I reminded 
him. “Don’t you remember he said yesterday that 
he wanted to take a lamp up in case he wanted to 
play after dark?” 

“He’ll be along pretty soon. Don’t fret, Pat,” 
Billy said and I subsided. 

When it got to be an hour though, Pryor called in 
Soo Let, the houseboy, and told him to go up to the 
studio and tell Mr. Conway we’d all had dinner. 
The men had taken off their heavy fishing boots 
and were too comfortable to move. Some way I 


46 


The Mystery of Tumult Rock 


couldn’t help feeling uneasy and I went to the win¬ 
dow and watched Soo Let’s lantern bob up along the 
trail. 

It went up in a leisurely way. Soo Let wasn’t in¬ 
trigued with his errand. But it came down like 
a falling star, jerking and jogging about in a reck¬ 
less hand. He stumbled into the living room, his 
yellow face livid with fright. 

“Come—see!” he cried, and tore back to the haven 
of the kitchen as fast as his turned-up shoes would 
carry him. 

Pryor had dealt with China boys before. He knew 
there wasn’t any use trying to get anything out of 
that one tonight. He and Billy and Burr didn’t 
wait to change their clothes, but just grabbed hats 
off the stag antlers and hurried up the trail. I 
knew it wasn’t the slightest use to ask to go with 


The Mystery of Tumult Rock 


47 


them, so I waited until they were out of sight 
around the first curve and then I followed. I knew 
if anyone objected it would be Burr and he hadn’t 
any authority over me. 

The cabin was dark, of course, but the door stood 
open. Pryor went in first, then Billy, then Burr. 
I was right on his heels. I saw Pryor swing his 
lantern about the room and heard him say, low, 
but with a shaky sound to his voice, 

“Jove! fellows! Look here!” 

He held his lantern close to the floor. Mr. Con¬ 
way was lying all huddled in a heap and I knew 
even before I saw the little trickle of blood from his 
heart that he was dead. His head was jerked over 
on one shoulder and he looked as though he had 
tumbled from the piano bench. 

Pryor leaned over him. 


48 


The Mystery of Tumult Rock 


“Bullet—right through the chest,” he said. Then 
he went on in that same subdued sort of voice, 
“This is—isn’t this a hell of a business ?” 

They set their lanterns down and began to look 
about. It was Burr of course who caught sight of 
me by the door. 

“For Heaven’s sake, Pat, you here? Go straight 
back to The Camp at once.” 

“Don’t be foolish, Burr,” I told him. “I know 
Mr. Conway’s dead and I’m not going to have 
hysterics. You’d better be trying to find the one 
that killed him before he gets away.” 

“She’s right,” Billy said. “Pat, sit down on that 
chair by the door while we have a look around. 
How long has he been dead, Pryor, would you say ?” 

“Several hours, I think,” Pryor said. “You see 


The Mystery of Tumult Rock 


49 


the blood has already dried around the edges. Poor 
chap, who in the world would wish him harm?” 

Burr had been stirring about the studio, looking 
from the door to the piano and back again. 

“I’ll tell you what I think,” he began. “I believe 
some hunter has sent a bullet in here accidentally 
and then has been too frightened to stay. Either 
that, or he never knew what he had done.” 

“The piano’s right in line with the open door,” 
Pryor said thoughtfully. “There may be something 
in what you say. But in that case,” he added sud¬ 
denly, “the bullet would have gone through the back 
and you see the hole is in front.” 

“Let’s turn him over,” Billy suggested. “It might 
have gone straight through.” 

That was the way it proved to be. The cloth had 
been carried in with the bullet and it was plain to 


50 


The Mystery of Tumult Rock 


be seen that it had come out through the front. 
So then they set to work to look f.or the bullet. 
They searched all around on the floor and at last I 
got up and went to Looking myself. I knew the 
piano was the first place to examine and sure 
enough there was a little hole where a bullet had 
gone in. 

“But it’s been dug out with a knife,” I exclaimed. 
“See, here’s a place where it’s splintered the wood.” 

“Pat, you’re out of your chair,” Burr said. 

“At least I’m not out of my mind,” I retorted. 
“Do you think your accidental theory will hold good 
now? I don’t suppose your hunter would come in 
and dig out the bullet for a souvenir?” 

“Not for a souvenir, but as the only evidence 
against him,” Pryor said. “I think this rather 
strengthens that theory. He might have hurried 


The Mystery of Tumult Rock 


51 


in to see how badly he had wounded poor Conway, 
found him dead, lost his nerve and hunted for and 
found the bullet as the only tangible proof of his 
connection with the accident. Cowardly of him, 
but mighty like some of these broken spirited moun¬ 
taineers.^ 

I shook my head stubbornly. 

“It was no accident. It was—murder.” 

Burr turned away impatiently. 

“Rot, Pat! You’ve been reading too many mys¬ 
tery stories. It was a plain, straight accident, I tell 
you, and I’m going down to The Camp to telephone 
the sheriff at Terminus. You’d better come with me 
and let Tina dose you with aromatic ammonia and 
get you to bed.” 

I didn’t pay the slightest attention to him. 

“There was The Voice,” I went on, thinking out 


52 


The Mystery of Tumult Rock 


loud. ”It must have been she—but I wonder why 
she’d want to shoot him.” 

At that Billy came over and took my arm and 
said very gravely, 

“Pat, you’re letting your imagination run away 
with you. There was no Voice—poor Conway was 
having fun with you or if he was not he simply 
fancied the whole thing himself. Go down now 
with Burr, and ask Tina to give you something hot 
to drink before you go to bed.” 

“Just a minute, Billy,” I begged. “Burr, you 
can play, can’t you? The piano, I mean.” 

He stared at me. 

“Why, yes, a little. Why?” 

“Please sit down here and play what’s written 
on these sheets of music,” I coaxed. “Please, Burr, 
I have a reason—truly I have.” 


The Mystery of Tumult Rock 


53 


I reckon they thought the quickest way to get rid 
of me was to humor me so Burr sat down, avoiding 
as he did so the poor, sprawled legs of the dead 
musician. If anybody had looked in at the door 
just then I reckon he’d have thought we’d all lost 
our minds. Billy and Pryor holding the lanterns, 
the dead man on the floor and Burr crashing out the 
accompaniment to Tosti’s Goodby, while I leaned 
across the case and listened. 

“There! I hope you’re satisfied,” Burr said, 
when the last note had died away. “Now will you 
come? I suppose you and Pryor will stay here, Mr. 
Armstrong, until we hear from Terminus?” 

For the next two days we had a good many peo¬ 
ple around The Camp. The sheriff from Terminus 
and the coroner came up and they poked about and 
asked questions and investigated but they all start- 


541 


The Mystery of Tumult Rock 


ed out with the theory of Mr. Conway’s death be¬ 
ing accidental and all they tried to do was to find 
the careless hunter. Mr. Conway seemed to have no 
family and no friends who were particularly excit¬ 
ed about his death. His manager came, but he 
was chiefly concerned with the fact that his star 
wouldn’t be able to fill his concert engagements. 
The Denver papers sent reporters to the scene and 
a few of them were pretty impudent about inter¬ 
viewing me and after one of them had tried to fit 
his finger through one of my curls and Burr had 
knocked him down, Billy decided that I mustn’t be 
interviewed again unless he was present. 

I heard one of those same reporters telling Pryor 
that Mr. Conway’s past wouldn’t bear too close in¬ 
spection and it wouldn’t surprise him if some of 
his numerous lady loves had taken a shot at him. 


The Mystery of Tumult Rock 


552- 


Pryor pointed out to him that as a rule women 
didn’t roam these mountains without a shelter 
somewhere and that there being no such shelter it 
followed that there was no lady. 

I hope nobody will think I am hard hearted or 
unfeeling when I say that none of us felt very cut 
up over Mir. Conway’s death. Of course it was a 
shock and we all wished the poor fellow had never 
gone up to the studio to practice that particular 
day but after all we hardly knew him and he had 
a rather disagreeable way of shutting you off if you 
tried to make friends with him. It was of course 
unjust to blame him for the reporters and the police 
and all the rest who expected to be entertained at 
The Camp or who brought lunches in shoe boxes 
from Terminus and left paper napkins and eggshells 
all over the prettiest canons, but it was certainly 


56 


The Mystery of Tumult Rock 


true that if Mr. Conway hadn’t got himself shot 
they wouldn’t have come. I was mighty glad when 
the jury returned a verdict of “accidental shooting 
at the hands of a person unknown” and we settled 
down to private life again. 


CHAPTER V 

DISCOVERIES 

“Burr,” I said the first day we were by ourselves 
again, “I want you to take a walk with me this 
morning. Will you?” 

“Perfectly stunned with delight,” Burr answered. 
“Where shall we go—to Mirror Lake or Three 
Falls?” 

“I’ll show you where. You just come.” 

When we got in sight of the studio I stopped. 

“This is where I want to go, Burr. I want to 
do some investigating on my own account.” 

Well, he didn’t like it a little bit. He said he 
thought I’d put all that business out of my mind 
and if I persisted in trying to make out a murder 


57 


58 


The Mystery of Tumult Rock 


case he’d speak to Billy and ask to have me sent to 
Denver to visit his cousin. I laughed right in his 
face. 

“Fm going to find out some things about this 
business, Burr,” I told him. “If you’ll help me, all 
right. If you won’t I’ll just attend to it alone.” 

He asked rather sulkily what I wanted him to do. 

I gave him some music and asked him to play 
and kept watch of the trail while he did it. I didn’t 
have much hope of the Voice’s appearing again but 
I thought I’d try. 

“Had enough?” Burr said after a while. “What’s 
the idea, Pat? Are you still harping on that mys¬ 
terious singer?” 

“There was a voice here, Burr, for I heard it. It 
was just as beautiful and marvelous as Mr. Conway 
said it was. Don’t you believe me?” 


The Mystery of Tumult Rock 


59 


Burr grinned and showed his beautiful white 
teeth. 

“Of course I believe you, Pat darlint. I think 
Louise Homer has a Peter Pan house in a tree 
somewhere near here and she sneaked down to take 
advantage of Conway’s exceptional accompaniment. 
But mine is not the finished performance his was 
so I don’t believe there’s much use in my trying 
to lure the lady to sing to me. Now, is that what 
you want? Can’t we go to Mirror Lake and see 
if the fish are biting?” 

I made up my mind I wouldn’t say another word 
to him about that Voice until I had found it. I 
laid my plans carefully and that night I asked 
Pryor for the key to the studio. He’d kept it locked 
since the police left and only let me have it that 


60 


The Mystery of Tumult Rock 


morning because I told him I was taking Burr 
along. 

“I want it all the time/’ I explained. “I want 
to use the studio as a—a sort of study, if you will 
let me.” 

Pryor gave a shrug. 

“Queer taste/’ he commented. “I should think a 
kid like you would be afraid to hang around there 
after—what occurred. Do you think it’s altogeth¬ 
er safe, Bill?” 

My parent looked at me a trifle uneasily. 

“Well, Pat, I hardly know,” he began. “I sup¬ 
pose really that cabin is the safest place in the 
mountains just now. Every hunter will give it a 
wide berth. On the other hand—” 

“Oh, bosh!” Pryor said. “It’s safe enough, I 


The Mystery of Tumult Bock 


61 


suppose. Here’s your key, Pat, only promise that 
you’ll never go there without Tina along.” 

I promised. It suited me well enough to have 
Tina where I could lay my hands on her if I want¬ 
ed her. The next morning before I started out 
Burr brought me a revolver and strapped it to my 
waist. 

“Teaching you to use this is the only sensible 
thing I ever heard of your father’s doing as far as 
you are concerned,” he said politely. 

Billy is used to criticisms of my bringing up so 
he only smiled but I went away boiling inside. I 
suppose Burr can’t get over comparing me with his 
eastern friends but he needn’t take the pains to 
tell me in so many words that I’m different. 

I made my First Discovery that morning. I was 
so cross with Burr that I wouldn’t go near the 


62 


The Mystery op Tumult Rock 


studio but instead Tina and I went to a little canon 
that we call Picnic Nook. It’s the prettiest place 
imaginable. There’s a little stream that goes 
tumbling and splashing through it, with grass and 
wild flowers all about. We ate the crackers and 
milk chocolate we always carry with us and drank 
from our collapsible cups out of the stream. Then 
while Tina curled up for her usual nap, I explored. 
I went through underbrush and around rocks push¬ 
ing my staff in front of me to be sure a rotten ledge 
of rock didn’t give way. I’d just caught my skirt 
on a sliver of rock and was pulling it loose when I 
saw a flutter of blue just ahead. It was a crepe de 
chine scarf, with tiny white butterflies embroid¬ 
ered on the hems. It was the daintiest, girliest 
thing! I imagined there was a faint perfume about 
it, but I couldn’t be quite sure. 


The Mystery of Tumult Rock 


60 


At first I thought Fd take it back to Burr and 
ask him what he thought about the singer now. 
Then I decided that I’d wait a while longer and see 
if I didn’t make some more discoveries. I did and 
the funny thing about it was that the next one came 
while I was with Burr himself. 

I’d promised him to go fishing to Mirror Lake 
one morning. You have to go out there on horses 
if you don’t want a pretty long walk. Burr would 
have walked it and thought nothing of it but Pryor 
insisted it was too far for me. So we rode slowly 
out under the dark hemlocks whose shade made it 
twilight even in the middle of the day. 

Fish never bite for me. Billy says I agitate the 
line with the concentration of my thought. They 
bit for Burr that afternoon and by and by I left 
him hauling in plump beauties and swelling with 


64 


The Mystery of Tumult Rock 


pride every time he fastened one to his string. I 
set out to explore the lake. It was a splendid name 
for it—Mirror Lake. It was exactly like a little 
round mirror dropped into the dark woods. You 
could see the clouds sailing over it, when you looked 
into its depths, you could see the birds flying over 
it, you could even see clearly your own face. I’d 
crossed clear on the opposite side from Burr 
and a jutting clump of shaking aspens hid 
him from me. I was leaning over the water 
supporting myself with both hands on the 
ground, and smiling to myself at the sight of 
my face in the water, when I saw something 
else. It was another face—the loveliest vision 
imaginable. I caught the swiftest glimpse of 
big dark eyes, lips that parted in a wistful little 
smile at me—and then before I could raise myself 


The Mystery of Tumult Rock 


65 


and turn, there was a flutter of a dark skirt, and 
the aspens closed about the fleeing figure. Of 
course I ran after her with all my might and main. 
I found her footprints in the soft ground beneath 
the aspens—a narrow foot, smaller even than mine 
—but I couldn’t find her. I was so sick with dis¬ 
appointment that I sat down on a log and gulped 
down some childish tears. The tiny glance I’d 
had at her had told me that she was young and 
pretty and sad. Oh, if I only could find her and ask 
her why she shot Mr. Conway! I burned to know 
whether it was an accident or if she just killed 
him because she wanted to. 

Burr was still hauling out fish when I got back. 
He didn’t even notice that I’d left him and I said 
nothing about the face in the water. He’d say I’d 
dreamed it probably. This thing was beginning to 


66 


The Mystery of Tumult Rock 


work out itself so I decided to just sit tight and 
let it evolve. 

Two days later I found a handkerchief on the 
floor of the studio. It was hand embroidered and 
I could tell by the look of it that it had been bought 
in one of those exclusive little shops you find only in 
big cities. There were tiny white butterflies on 
this also and I thought it must be sort of a mono¬ 
gram or trademark of the unknown singer. I set 
myself pretty seriously at work on the problem 
when I found this handkerchief. I couldn’t exactly 
make out whether the visitor was getting careless 
and scattering her things about because she was 
willing to be discovered, or whether she knew that 
I was looking for her and left these things as sort 
of messages to me where she knew I would find 
them. I almost hoped it was the first because if 


The Mystery of Tumult Rock 


67 


she wasn’t hiding she wasn’t ashamed of anything 
and perhaps that meant she had shot Mr. Conway 
by accident. 

After tossing about for several hours I thought of 
a splendid scheme. I got out of bed and got my 
writing tablet and scribbled a note. 

“Dear Lady with the Golden Voice,” I 
said, “Won’t you let me find you? I know 
you are not wicked or a criminal and I do 
so want to talk to you. Please, please be 
in the studio tomorrow at five, or if you 
can’t be then leave a note to tell me when 
you will come.” 

I crept back to bed thoroughly satisfied with this 
solution and went right to sleep. In the morning I 
stuck the note on the music rack of the piano and 


(58 


The Mystery op Tumult Rock 


was careful to keep out of the vicinity of the studio 
all day so that she could come and go as she 
wished. At five I went back there, and what do 
you think I found? A tiny white butterfly, impris¬ 
oned in a tumbler turned upside down on the piano! 
The tumbler belonged to the studio; I remembered 
seeing it there. The butterfly—I thought of the ones 
embroidered on the veil and handkerchief and I 
knew this was a message to me if I could only 
read it. 

For the next two days I haunted the studio quite 
frankly. I hid on first one side, then on the other. 
I walked a mile or two up the trail and thought 
to catch her as she came down. But there wasn’t 
the faintest indication of her ever coming again and 
Anally I extended my exploration farther and far¬ 
ther from The Camp. 


The Mystery of Tumult Rock 69 

It was the first week in September and beginning 
to be pretty cold nights and early mornings before 
I made the next discovery. Billy and Pryor were 
talking of breaking camp and I was getting desper¬ 
ate. It had been several weeks since I’d had a sign 
of the lovely singer and it might be that she had 
left the mountains. I ranged a little farther from 
The Camp than I’d quite dared to do before and it 
was eleven miles away that I came upon the Great¬ 
est Discovery of all. 


I heard The Voice again. 


CHAPTER VI 

THE BRIDGE 

Before I can tell you where I heard it I must 
describe The Bridge. If you know the Rocky Moun¬ 
tains well you know there are many spurs from the 
big peaks. Sometimes these spurs just spring nat¬ 
urally from the mountain, again they seem to be 
split off and are connected with a ridge of rock or 
granite. Some of these ridges are broad enough to 
let you cross on them; but some are just a finger 
of rock, so narrow that even a burro couldn’t find 
a foothold. One of these latter is The Bridge and 
it connects Lunette Peak with Tumult Rock. 

I don’t wonder at its being named Tumult, but 
it ought to be rocks instead of Rock. It looks as 


70 


The Mystery of Tumult Rock 


71 


though some giant in a fit of rage had thrown 
about huge boulders and walls of granite as a child 
would his playthings. There are a few trees to be 
seen from Lunette. I don’t know how it looks from 
the farther side. The Bridge is just the edge of a 
big slice of rock which joins that upheaval of na¬ 
ture with nice, safe Lunette, over which I’d wan¬ 
dered so many times. 

I asked Pryor once if anybody ever crossed on 
The Bridge. He said not to his knowledge, but of 
course his acquaintance didn’t embrace any tight 
rope walkers—perhaps an exceptionally steady 
headed one of that profession might attempt it. 
There were sheer drops of several thousand feet 
from The Bridge and it wasn’t very pleassant to 
think of venturing out on that thread of rock. 

I was standing there that day trying to imagine 


72 


The Mystery of Tumult Rock 


what I would do if a bear came after me and I had 
to choose between it and trying The Bridge and 
I’d just decided that I’d take the bear when I heard 
it—the Golden Voice. It came from across The 
Bridge. 

Now perhaps you think I forgot my horror of 
that crossing and ran lightly and safely right across. 
I didn’t. I just sat there on a good, flat rock and 
listened and did the hardest and fastest thinking 
I ever did in my life. And when the song had died 
away and I went back to The Camp I was still 
thinking. I was so quiet that evening that Burr 
accused me of growing tired of mountain life and 
said it was a good thing Billy had decided to go 
down next week. 

“Really, Billy?” I asked, startled. 

“Really, Pat. I’ve taken a long vacation—all of 


The Mystery of Tumult Rock 


73 


us have, but as it’s been the only one we’ve had 
since the war I guess we needed it. Now it’s time 
we were all getting into harness again. Fish your 
last in Mirror Lake, have one more spread in Picnic 
Nook and pay farewell visits to all your favorite 
haunts.” 

That set me to thinking harder than ever and 
when I’d gotten rid of Tina that night I sat up in 
bed and decided what I’d do. You see—well it’s 
got to come sometime, so I guess now is as good a 
time as any to tell what I really felt about Burr 
Thomas. Burr—well, I loved him so hard it was 
just like an ache in my heart all the time. Of course 
I’m only seventeen and girls of that age are not sup¬ 
posed to know their own minds but I knew that if 
Burr didn’t somehow come to love me before some 
other girl got him there’d never be any home fires 


74 


The Mystery of Tumult Rock 


for me to keep burning—ever. Why, when I catch 
sight of his dark head above his chair back when I 
come into the room I have to hold onto myself with 
both hands to keep from running up and stroking 
that head, and laying my cheek against it. He’s 
the bravest, the handsomest, the dearest—but it’s 
not the least use to try to tell how much I cared 
for him. . 

I’ve been so afraid that some of this would show 
in my eyes or ring through my words to him that 
I’ve pretended to be a little—antagonistic to him 
Why, if you’ll believe me, Billy’s spoken to me more 
than once about trying to overcome my dislike of 
Burr. 

The Thomases are quite prominent in the East. 
Burr’s father was a general in the Spanish-Amerl 
can war and Burr himself was a Captain in the air 


The Mystery of Tumult Rock 


75 


service. It will always be one of the griefs of my 
life that I never saw him in uniform. 

Now I realize that I had very little chance with 
him compared to all the rich and beautiful and cul¬ 
tured girls in his home. Pryor told me they had 
spoiled him so he really didn’t pay much attention 
to any of them. But I figured that I did have just 
a tiny chance. I heard Burr say once that it wasn’t 
a woman’s looks or manner that counted with him. 
It was her brains. If she was clever and knew how 
to use her mind she made much more of a hit with 
him than if she was a second Helen. So I made up 
my mind that I’d cultivate my brain power for all 
I was worth. Billy has always told me that I had 
a pretty good start and I thought if I could show 
Burr that I was unusually wise and discerning and 
out of the ordinary I might—he might—well, you 


76 


The Mystery of Tumult Rock 


known what I mean. It all sounds dreadfully bold 
and forward but I don’t care—I love him so much! 

That’s the first reason I went into this Conway 
thing. I was going to show Burr that I could do 
what not he nor any of those reporter men nor 
even the sheriff could do—I was going to solve the 
mystery of the Conway shooting. Of course I did 
get interested in it for its own sake pretty soon but 
it was not due to my “insatiable girlish curiosity,” 
as the papers said, that I found the way to cross to 
Tumult Rock. 

Everybody keeps asking me if I wasn’t terribly 
fraid to set about tracking a murderer down. I 
wasn’t—no. First because I believed the singer 
was the one who shot Mr. Conway and I couldn’t 
think of her as terrifying. Her scarf and hand- 


The Mystery of Tumult Rock 


77 


kerchief were so like what any of the girls I knew 
possessed that I couldn’t feel afraid of her. 

So now you know why I was out to The Bridge 
as soon as I could get there the next morning, de¬ 
termined to find a way to get across to Tumult 
Rock. I knew there must be some way for it was 
plain that the singer had been on Lunette and that 
her voice had come from Tumult. So she had 
crossed, that was all there was to it. It’s what the 
detectives call arriving at a conclusion by the proc¬ 
ess of elimination. I eliminated all the ways there 
were for a girl to get to the studio and the only one 
left was for her to cross The Bridge. Now if a girl 
a trifle smaller than I was could get over I could 
myself. 

I left Tina away down the trail and as I had 
purposely kept her up later than usual the night 


78 


The Mystery of Tumult Rock 


before I knew she would be asleep before I got out 
of sight. I sat down on a jutting edge of rock on 
Lunette and I studied that Bridge, all I could see 
of it. I tried again to imagine anybody walking 
across that tiny six inches of rock with the abyss 
on both sides and I simply couldn’t do it. I knew 
that girl hadn’t either, I don’t care how much 
brains she had or how brave she was. If crossing 
The Bridge was the price of winning Burr Thomas 
he’d just have to fall into the hands of one of his 
eastern sweethearts, that was all. 

Billy’s always told me to try to see all that I 
was looking at. He says that most people look at 
an object in search of some particular aspect of it 
and that’s all they ever do see. He’s trained me 
so that when I glance at a house I not only know 
whether it’s attractive and well kept, but how many 


The Mystery of Tumult Rock 


79 


doors and windows are in evidence, what period of 
architecture it belongs to and things like that. It 
gets to be a habit with you after while and a great 
help in case you need to remember something about 
it. So now I began to look at The Bridge from a 
different point of view. If I couldn’t cross on its 
edge, at least I’d find out all there was to see from 
where I sat. 

I looked carefully down the right side. It sloped 
sharply with a straight granite wall. Not a foot¬ 
hold for a fly there. Unless I leaned forward I 
couldn’t even see the bottom of the chasm. Then I 
turned my attention to the left and in a minute I 
gave a little cry of surprise. This side was more 
irregular than the other. Little broken splinters of 
the rock stood out here and there and the 
line of the main wall was so broken you couldn’t 


80 


The Mystery of Tumult Rock 


see the ridge at all. And—here is where I nearly 
tumbled off my boulder—about four feet below the 
top there was a slender little path hewn along the 
bumpy side. Part of it was natural and part had 
been made—though I didn’t know that until after¬ 
wards—by knocking off some of the sharpest pro¬ 
jections with a hammer. It was so narrow and so 
cleverly arranged that unless you stood or sat at 
just the right angle to The Bridge you couldn’t see 
it at all. The end of the path which touched 
Lunette disappeared around a big overhanging rock 
from which, I guessed at once, there was an easy 
climb to where I sat. I let myself down by means 
of footholds in the boulder and sure enough there 
was an easy step right onto the path. 

I was wild with delight and triumph! Now T 
knew where the mysterious singer was hiding. All 


The Mystery of Tumult Bock 


81 


I had to do was to get up nerve enough to cross 
that narrow path—and its outer side was pretty 
well protected with the projections of rock—and be¬ 
hind those piled up masses on Tumult I’d find a 
tent or a cave or something which sheltered The 
Voice. I looked at my wristwatch. It was ten 
minutes to eleven. If she were there and not hid¬ 
ing from me somewhere on our side, in an hour I 
would be back where I stood now but with the 
knowledge of who she was, what she looked like and 
why she’d killed Hobart Conway. 

I’m not absolutely reckless and heedless. To 
prove it I’ll tell you that before I stepped out onto 
that path I felt in my belt to see if my revolver 
were there and laid my hat in plain sight on the 
boulder so that if Billy or—anybody—missed me 
and came to look they’d know where I’d gone; and 


82 


The Mystery of Tumult Rock 


I—well, I even said a little prayer. Pm not pre¬ 
tending that I wasn’t scared, for I was. It isn’t 
the pleasantest thing in the world to be going to 
interview a murderer, even if she is a girl. My 
mouth was dry and my heart going like a trip-ham¬ 
mer before I got across. It’s a distance of about 
a hundred and fifty feet, I should say. When I 
stepped safely on the little plateau which was the 
end of the Bridge on Tumult I had to stop and wait 
till my knees quit shaking before I went on. 

After I’d got safely across I turned and looked 
over the path I’d come. There was a narrow slope 
—almost a chute from the little plateau to the path 
and I wondered how it came to be clear when there 
was nothing but rocks, rocks everywhere else on 
that mountain. I found out later. 

I picked my way through the big, rough, red 


The Mystery of Tumult Rock 


83 


boulders, looking for some sign of life. There 
wasn’t a thing which showed that any human being 
but myself had ever stepped on this peak. Just 
tumbling masses of granite and lichen-covered boul¬ 
ders. The sun broiled down on them and without 
my hat I began to blister and burn. I took shelter 
at last under a hanging ledge and it was there I 
heard The Voice again. It was low this time but 
it seemed all around me. I couldn’t tell from 
which direction it came. Now it seemed right in 
front of me and I started forward. Now it hummed 
and trilled behind me and I twisted about to look. 
Now it was on the left side, now on the right. I 
got so confused I just sat still and waited, not try¬ 
ing to find it. It died away pretty soon and though 
I sat waiting for nearly half an hour longer it 
didn’t come again. It told me that the singer was 


84 


The Mystery of Tumult Rock 


on Tumult anyway. I’d almost begun to lose faith 
in that fact since I’d failed to find any sign of her. 
Now I got up and went cautiously forward, testing 
with my staff the way before me. It did seem as 
though there should have been some kind of a path 
or trail but there wasn’t any. 

To make a long story short, I wandered about on 
Tumult for several hours. It was way past our 
lunch time but I always carried a little package 
of food and I knew Billy wouldn’t worry. I’d 
often stayed out all day before. I only hoped that 
Tina would sleep till I came for her. 

I gave up the search at last and decided that 
the only thing I could do was to take Burr into my 
confidence and let him find the Singer if he could. 
I found my resting place under the ledge on my 
way back and sat down again before I tackled the 


The Mystery of Tumult Rock 


85 


path across. I was sitting there, poking in the 
crumbling rock, when I began idly to repeat a verse 
from Jabberwocky. 

“He took his vorpal sword in hand: 

Long time the manxsome foe he sought— 

So rested he by the Tumtum tree, 

And stood a while in thought.” 

Before the last word was fairly out of my mouth 
a voice from overhead took it up: 

“ ‘And, as in uffish thought he stood, 

The Jabberwock, with eyes of flame, 

Came whiffling through the tulgy wood, 

And burbled as it came.’ 

‘Do you think I burble well, Pat dear?” 

Now I put it to you if anything any more as¬ 
tonishing than that ever happened to anyone! To 
set out on a criminal hunt and have your victim 


86 


The Mystery of Tumult Rock 


quote Alice In Wonderland at you from the top of 
a ledge of rock where’s she been lying watching you! 
I could see her laughing face peeping over at me, 
the great dark braids of hair swinging loose. I 
promptly reached up and took hold of one. 

“Now I’ve got you,” I told her. “Will you come 
down or shall I come up?” 

“I’d better come down. It’s rather hot up here. 
Let go my hair, Pat, please. I’ll be right there.” 

I heard a scrambling and a sliding and pretty 
soon she came around the side of my ledge and 
stood smiling at me. She was smaller than I, with 
big dark eyes that looked sad, dark hair and a 
mouth like a red geranium. She was dressed in a 
blue serge dress and she wore tough Indian moc¬ 
casins strapped tightly to her feet. 


The Mystery of Tumult Rock 


87 


“How do you know I’m Pat?” I asked her the 
first thing. 

“Why, I’ve heard the one you call Billy and the 
tall young man with the nice eyes call you so,” she 
answered. “And your colored maid, too. I know 
a lot about you, Pat darlint,” she drawled teas- 
ingly. 

“Well, I’ve come here to find out several things 
about you,” I said abruptly. “Do you live here— 
on Tumult, I mean?” 

“Yes, if you call it living.” There was a sudden 
shadow over her face. “We’re—existing up here. 
I’ll show you before you go back—perhaps. How 
did you find the path?” 

“By looking for it. You crossed, so I knew there 
must be a way.” 

We stood there looking at each other, not know- 


88 


The Mystery of Tumult Rock 


ing what next to say. There were dozens of ques¬ 
tions crowding to my lips and pretty soon I put 
the one that I wanted answered the most. 

“Why did you kill poor Hobart Conway?” 

She looked surprised. 

“I didn’t—did you think I did?” 

“Yes. You sang for him, didn’t you?” 

“I sang for myself. Of course I loved his ac¬ 
companiment,” she said dreamily. 

“H’m. I should think you might. He is—was 
the greatest pianist in the country,” I said. “You 
were singing when he was shot—Tosti’s Goodby, it 
was, and of course he couldn’t hear anything—foot¬ 
steps or anything like that—with those loud, crash¬ 
ing chords.” 

She looked more surprised than ever. 

“How did you know that? Oh, the music on the 


The Mystery of Tumult Rock 


89 


piano, I suppose. Yes, I was singing that and you 
are right, the music covered all other sounds. 1 
didn’t even hear footsteps till the revolver was push¬ 
ed over my shoulder.” 

“You mean somebody else shot him over your 
shoulder?” I asked incredulously. “Do you know 
who it was?” 

She nodded. “He’d followed me, I guess. The 
first I knew was when the shot rang out and I 
saw Mr. Conway—I know his name because it was 
written on some of his music—I saw him crumple 
up on the bench and fall to the floor.” 

She spoke so composedly that I felt a little thrill 
of repulsion. It seemed strange that so young a 
girl could be unmoved over a murder in which she 
had been so nearly concerned. 


90 


The Mystery of Tumult Rock 


“Weren’t you frightened to death?” I asked her 
curiously. “Didn’t you hate it?” 

“Well, it was a dreadful shock, of course, but I 
couldn’t be sorry about Mr. Conway. He deserved 
it and ten times more. I wish I hadn’t been there 
when it happened, that’s all.” 

“How do you mean he deserved it? Tell me 
about it, please.” 

She looked about her as though expecting some 
one to come. 

“I can’t now, Pat. Truly—it wouldn’t be safe. 
Anyway, I think you’d better go now.” 

“Without knowing your name? Without seeing 
where you live?” I cried in dismay. 

“My name’s Joan Marchant. I’ll show you where 


I live some other time. Come on! I’ll walk with 


The Mystery of Tumult Rock 


91 


you back to the path. It will be dark before von 
get back to The Camp as it is.” 

She acted awfully uneasy all of a sudden and 
seemed to want to get rid of me. I didn’t want to 
go but of course I couldn’t force myself on her so 
I followed her along the ledge until we came to 
the little plateau. She bent down and looked and 
presently raised her face and turned quite pale. 

“I was afraid so! I knew they’d find out you 
were here. Now you can’t get across and there’s 
simply no telling when you’ll ever get back.” 

“Why can’t I get across?” I demanded. “There’s 
nobody to hinder me, is there?” 

“There’s this.” She stepped back and showed me 
the spot where I had to step down to get onto the 
bridge path. You remember I said there was a 
narrow little chute leading to it. This chute was 


92 


The Mystery of Tumult Rock 


very neatly blocked now with a long, high wedge 
of rock which fitted in the aperture perfectly. 

“Why, who put that there ?” I exclaimed. “It’ 
wasn’t there when I came. 7 ’ 

“Of course it wasn’t. You couldn’t have climbed 
up here if it had been. They’ve closed it while you 
were talking to me. They often do when they 
want to keep me here, but I hoped you’d get away 
before they discovered you.” 

“Who are they ?” I asked. “Is it your father 
and mother?” 

She shook her head, and a little frightened look 
came into her eyes. 

“It’s Agnes and her brother, Sam. They—I sup 
pose you’d call them servants, but they—it 7 s hard 
to tell you just what they are.” 

“Well, call them and ask them to move this rock 


The Mystery of Tumult Rock 


93 


away,” I said impatiently. “It is getting dark and 
Billy will be frightened about me.” 

“There isn’t the least use to ask them. They 
wouldn’t have put the rock there if they hadn’t 
meant you are to stay. Oh, Pat! Why did you 
come over to Tumult? You’ll certainly get your¬ 
self into trouble now!” 

“Pooh!” I said stoutly, though I’ll own I was 
growing a little uneasy. There was a peculiar kind 
of atmosphere about the place—I can’t just describe 
it, but it seemed as though there were plans and 
thoughts about that were wicked. “Let’s us pull 
it out then. Both of us together can surely do it.” 

She shook her head. 

“No, there’s a trick about it. I’ve tried and tried 
till my hands were bruised. You simply cannot 
move it. They can.” 


94 


The Mystery op Tumult Rock 


“For goodness sake, Joan, stop saying They,’* I 
told her sharply. “It sounds like a ghost title. 
Take me to this—what’s his name? Sam? and let 
me see if I can’t talk him into opening this chute.” 
“Try it then, young lady. I’m right here.” 


CHAPTER VII 

THE HOUSE ON TUMULT 

The voice came from behind us, and I jumped 

as though I had been shot. In the half light the 

man’s face looked like some wild animal’s. His 

long hair, of a sort of mousy color, was tossing 

about his eyes and they gleamed through it fiercely. 

He hadn’t shaved for weeks and the thick stubble 

on his cheeks and chin didn’t add to his beauty. 

He was tall—over six feet, I should say, and broad 

shouldered. Altogether he was enough to make a 
seventeen-year-old girl’s heart go pretty fast when 

she saw him for the first time. 

“Well, why don’t you say something?” he said. 

“I’m here, you see.” 


95 


96 


The Mystery of Tumult Rock 


“Move that rock. I want to go home.” I could 
feel the quavers in my voice but I hoped he wouldn’t 
hear them. Joan stepped forward and began to 
talk with a note of pleading in her tones. 

“Sam, this young lady got over here by accident. 
She’s tired now and wants to go back. Please let 
her.” 

He simply grinned and said nothing. It made 
me so mad some of my fear left me. 

“You’d better let me go. My father will be after 
me pretty soon.” 

He shrugged his shoulders. 

“I don’t think so, little miss. There’s a good deal 
of territory to be covered before they get to—the 
Black Pool.” 

I stared at him. 

“What has the Black Pool to do with me?” 


The Mystery of Tumult Rock 


97 


“Little miss left her hat on the rocks, eh? It’s 
on the bank of the Black Pool now.” 

It swept all over me at once—what he meant. 
I’d been with Billy several times to look into the 
awful black depths of the pool that was said to be 
bottomless. I remembered I asked Billy if he 
thought it really was and he said, 

“You can’t tell what sort of freak nature will 
indulge in when she gets on a rampage, Pat. The 
old lady certainly had a bad case of hysterics when 
she threw things around these mountains. I have 
an idea this pool has its outlet in an extinct vol¬ 
cano crater and in that case it might as well be 
bottomless.” 

“Have you ever heard of anybody being drowned 
in it?” I asked fearfully. 

“There was a young boy once—I believe he was 


98 


The Mystery of Tumult Rock 


running from something he feared and he plunged 
in without realizing where he was.” 

“Was he ever found ?” I asked again, for Billy had 
stopped. 

“No, never. Oome on, Pat, let’s go where it’s 
pleasanter.” 

This scrap of conversation came back to me word 
for word while I stood there staring at Sam’s grin¬ 
ning face. I knew just how Billy and Pryor and 
Burr too, of course, would search all night long for 
me. I knew how they would question poor Tina 
who couldn’t tell them a thing. I wondered just 
when the thought of the Black Pool would first 
strike them and I shut my eyes and turned a little 
sick as I pictured my poor Billy finding my hat on 
the bank. I’m all the child of my father’s house, 
as the song says, and it stands to reason he’d miss 


The Mystery of Tumult Rock 


99 


me more than the father of five or six. Burr too— 
someway I could see the pain in his eyes when he 
knew that I was really gone forever in that black 
water. 

But I wasn’t! I pulled myself up with a jerk. I 
was alive and perfectly well and here was the time 
for me to use those brains I’d been hoping I pos¬ 
sessed. 

“What’s your idea in keeping me here, Sam?” I 
asked him calmly. “If it’s robbery I haven’t a 
valuable thing about me except my wristwatch. 
You may have that if you want it.” 

I unstrapped it and held it out to him but he 
made no move to take it. 

“Well, what do you want then?” I cried. “Is it 
a kidnapping scheme? Because if it is say so and 
let me write the message or whatever the usual pro- 


100 


The Mystery of Tumult Rock 


ceedure is in a case like this. My father isn't a 
very rich man but I know he’ll give all he’s got to 
get me back.” 

For a minute I thought I’d struck the right note. 
A covetous gleam came into his shifty eyes. But 
he shook his head. 

“There ain’t no use in your asking questions,” he 
said harshly. “Little miss came to Tumult of her 
own accord. Now she’ll have to stay—awhile.” He 
tacked the last word on with another of his horrid 
smiles and I thought it extremely likely he meant 
I was never to leave. While I stood glaring at him 
a woman came around the turn and caught at Sam’s 
arm. She was ugly enough and looked enough like 
him to be his sister so I knew it must be Agnes. 
She had hair the color of his but after I saw her in 
the light I realized that perhaps once she had been 


The Mystery of Tumult Rock 


101 


rather a good looking girl. She had beautiful eyes. 

“Come—come at once!” she said to Sam. “I 
can’t hold her any longer.” 

Sam cast another look at the rock as though to 
be sure it was safely there and then turned and 
went away with the woman. Joan was crying. 

“Well!” I said, drawing a long breath. “This is 
a pretty mess. Stop crying, please, and answer 
some questions. Was that Agnes?” 

“Yes. She’s a little better than her brother. 
They’ve gone to the hut. Come, Pat, we might as 
well go too. There’s no use to stand here and it’s 
getting cold.” 

I followed her around the ledge and through a 
winding path that I hadn't seen before. After we’d 
gone for a quarter of a mile we turned abruptly 
onto a level space of perhaps fifty yards in width 


102 The Mystery of Tumult Rock 

and length. It was almost dark by now but I could 
make out the outlines of a small log hut huddled 
against the rocks. The slope above it was so sharp 
that the roofing ran right into the mountain side and 
I found afterwards there was a cave-like space in 
the back. We were hurrying toward the door in 
the front when a sound arose that made my blood 
turn cold in my veins. It was a scream—a horrid, 
wild scream that rose and fell and died away, only 
to be taken up again in that awful despairing wail. 
I never was so frightened in all my life. I clutched 
Joan with a grip that must have left black and blue 
marks on her arms. 

“What is it—oh, what is it?” I cried. 

Joan was shaking herself, poor girl, but she didn’t 


seem surprised. 


The Mystery of Tumult Rock 


103 


“I guess—I think it’s mother. Come with me. I 
must go to her.” 

I didn’t want to follow her in where that awful 
voice was, but neither did I want to stay alone out 
in the darkness. So I went in behind her and pretty 
soon I found myself in the strangest room I was 
ever in. It was formed partly of logs and partly 
of the natural rock walls of the mountain. There 
was some rough furniture made out of trimmed 
spruce boughs. A bed in one corner, a makeshift 
table and some benches. There were two doors 
opening from it besides the one through which we 
had entered, so I knew there were other rooms. In 
the bed was the woman who had screamed. I knew 
it was she because she was sinking back as though 
she were exhausted and Agnes was rubbing her 


104 


The Mystery of Tumult Rock 


hands with something strong smelling. Sam was 
just going out one of the inner doors. 

“Mother! Poor Mother!” Joan cried, running 
over and throwing herself down by the bed. “Did 
the pain come again?” 

The big eyes in the white face looked at Joan 
and the pale lips whispered, 

“Sing.” 

And again the Golden Voice filled my ears with 
its wonderful melody. I stood just inside the room 
and stared with all my might. Was this young slip 
of a girl really the mysterious singer whose voice 
had so charmed Mr. Conway? I thought of the vol¬ 
ume of sound, the depth of feeling we had both ob¬ 
served and I rubbed my eyes and looked again to 
see if it was really Joan. She knelt on the dirt 
floor, her mother’s hands in hers, her head thrown 


The Mystery of Tumult Rock 


105 


back and she sang on and on like an angel. Grad¬ 
ually the sick woman’s drawn face relaxed and 
when Joan finally stopped, her mother closed her 
eyes as though she could sleep. Joan beckoned to 
me and I crossed the room after her. 

We went into a small room which was really no 
bigger than a large closet. There was a heap of 
pine boughs thrown on the floor with a couple of 
army blankets spread over them. There was a small 
trunk on the floor and there were a few dresses 
hanging from nails in the log walls. It might have 
been a room in one of our ancestors’ first homes in 
the West. 

I waited till Joan had sunk down onto the bed 
and motioned me to the trunk. Then I began. 

“Now, Joan, I want to know all about this. Why 
are you here, who are you, why am I to be kept 


106 


The Mystery of Tumult Rock 


here and what hold have this Sam and Agnes over 
you? And what is the matter with your mother?” 

“She’s ill—she’s dying/’ Joan said, answering my 
last question first. “Oh, Pat, do you know what it 
is to see your mother day by day slipping from you 
and know that you must not grieve because death 
will be so much easier for her than life?” 

“I have no mother,” I said softly. “But I have 
Billy and he’s been mother and father both to me. 
Can’t your mother be cured?” 

Joan shook her head sadly. 

“No, it’s incurable—her disease. We can only 
hope that she will go soon. The pain is dreadful. 
That is why she screams—when it gets to be more 
than she can bear in silence.” 

There seemed nothing more to be said about that 
subject so I went on to my other questions. 


The Mystery of Tumult Rock 


107 


“Who are Sam and Agnes ?” 

“Agnes is a girl my mother helped when she was 
in great trouble. She’s stayed with her ever since 
as a sort of maid though lately she’s been house¬ 
keeper and nurse and everything. Sam is her 
brother. I’ve only seen him this summer though I 
know he used to stay with Agnes sometimes when 
I was at school.” 

“You’ve been to boarding school?” I asked, in¬ 
terested at once because there was a time when 
Billy thought I’d better go. I didn’t think so. 

She looked at me surprised. 

“Why, where did you think I learned to sing 
like that? Don’t you know I have an unusual 
voice ?” 

Of course I did and I told her so. 

“I inherited it from Mother. She used to be a 


108 


The Mystery of Tumult Rock 


concert singer—she sang in grand opera for three 
seasons. Ske sent me away to study—music and 
French and Italian—all the things you have to 
know if you’re to be a great singer. I’ve only lived 
with my mother this summer.” 

“Why is she up here? Can’t you afford—” I tried 
to put it delicately, “can’t you afford to live in the 
city ?” 

She smiled a little. 

“Oh, yes, we have plenty of money, I believe. At 
least I have always gone to expensive schools and 
had nice clothes and everything. I think we came 
up here because the doctors thought it would make 
mother’s last days easier—up so high, you know— 
and then it was Sam’s doing really.” 

“You could have gone to one of the hotels far¬ 
ther down. This is surely no place for an invalid. 


The Mystery of Tumult Rock 


109 


Why, look at her bed—” 

“I know it. That is what I don’t understand. I 
didn’t know where we were going until I got a 
letter saying that Agnes would meet me in Denver. 
That was early in the summer. She brought me 
up here, across the bridge path and I found mother 
here. When I asked her why we were living in this 
rough fashion she said Sam thought it best and she 
didn’t care where she was.” 

“But what about you?” I asked indignantly. 

“I suppose she thought I could stand it for a 
short time,” Joan sighed. “I know she didn’t ex¬ 
pect to live this long, poor Mother.” 

It all sounded simple enough but my mind went 
groping around trying to find the real key to the 
story. I thought of Mr. Conway. 

“Why did you sing for Mr. Conway?” 


110 


The Mystery of Tumult Rock 


She blushed a little. 

“It was the hunger for music, I guess,” she con¬ 
fessed. “I’d formed the habit of wandering about 
the mountains, a good deal the way you do your¬ 
self, Pat,” she said looking at me. “And one day I 
heard some one playing down in the cabin you call 
the studio. You must remember that I’ve been up 
here longer than you. I even watched them build¬ 
ing The Camp and the studio place. It was one of 
the ways I filled my time—lingering on the out¬ 
skirts of your grounds watching what went on. Of 
course I didn’t know who Mr. Oonway was but I 
hung around and heard him play until one day he 
began the Peer Gynt song and I couldn’t resist sing¬ 
ing. It was one of the songs I’d been working on 
just before I left school and it was so familiar it 
seemed to sing itself. Then I got frightened and 


The Mystery of Tumult Rock 


111 


slipped away. I came back, though, the next day 
and I soon saw that he didn’t mean to try to dis¬ 
cover me, so I sang and sang every afternoon and 
enjoyed it more than I can tell you. Then one day 
I found his name on some of his music and I was 
awfully excited. We girls in school used to long 
to get a glimpse of him but we never did. And 
here I’d been singing to his accompaniment and 
never knew it. I hadn’t said a word about my ad¬ 
ventures to Mother but when I made that discovery 
I couldn’t keep from telling her. She went right 
into hysterics and I had to call Agnes and Sam 
both to hold her. It upset Agnes too and she had a 
fainting spell when Mother got quiet. Altogether 
I thought my singing days with Mr. Conway were 
ended but the next afternoon Mother called me to 
her and told me to go on singing, that it was a 


112 


The Mystery of Tumult Rock 


wonderful opportunity and I must take advantage 
of it. She warned me not to let myself be seen, 
though, or perhaps so famous a musician would be 
disgusted when he found he’d been playing for a 
young girl. So I did. I went down there every 
day until—well, until Mr. Conway died.” 

“Died is good,” I said. “Until he was murdered, 
you mean. Who killed him?” 

She shut her lips tight as though she didn’t mean 
to tell me. I leaned over and shook her arm. 

“Joan! Tell me, else I’ll think you did it your¬ 
self.” 

“Well, I didn’t, so you may think what you please. 
I promised I wouldn’t tell who did and I’d advise 
you not to inquire too closely into it either.” 

She glared at me and I glared back. It was too 
ridiculous, we two girls, in such strange surround- 


The Mystery of Tumult Rock 


113 


ings, almost strangers to each other and actually 
scrapping about who committed a murder. I 
thought of my mysterious and divine singer and I 
had to laugh to see her now. 

“You said he deserved it,” I reminded her after 
a while. “Why did he?” 

“Well, he had done lots of cruel and wicked 
things,” she said. “If I could tell you what they 
are you’d agree with me that being shot was really 
lots less than he deserved. I haven’t felt a min¬ 
ute’s pity for him since, though of course I miss 
his music,” she sighed. 

“What about the scarf and the handkerchief?” 

“I left them accidentally,” she answered, “I 
couldn’t seem to keep from hanging around you. I 
was so lonely and you all seemed to be so fond of 
each other and to have such good times. I wanted 


114 


The Mystery of Tumult Rock 


dreadfully to get acquainted with you but Mother 
positively forbade it and after Mr. Conway’s death 
of course I was afraid to be found. When I dis¬ 
covered that you knew I was somewhere in the 
mountains I couldn’t resist playing hide and seek 
with you a bit. _I got your note in the studio. Did 
you get my message?” 

“The butterfly? Yes. What did it mean?” 

“Nothing except it is a sort of sign of me. I al¬ 
ways have them embroidered on my handkerchief 
and underwear. I wanted you to know that I had 
your note and I couldn’t think of anything else to 
leave. A white butterfly fluttered in just then so 
I caught it and put it in the glass. I hope you 
found it before it was dead?” she asked anxiously. 

“I did.” 

I looked at her curiously. This was a queer girl, 


The Mystery of Tumult Rock 115 

announcing one minute that she thought shooting 
was too easy a death for the world-famous pianist 
who had given her so many hours of his music, the 
next afraid that a butterfly would die before I came 
to release it. I gave her up for the time-being and 
turned my attention to getting the rest of the story. 

“Who made the path across The Bridge?” 

“Sam, I guess. At least he was there to show 
Agnes and me how to cross when we came here in 
the spring. I asked Mother how she ever got across 
and how they got what little furniture there is here 
but she just shook her head and wouldn’t tell me. 
Poor Mother.” 

Now I came to the question that interested me 
the most. 

“How long do you suppose that Sam will keep 


me here?” 


116 


The Mystery of Tumult Rock 


She gave that same furtive little glance around 
that she had out on the rocks. 

“Bend your head, Pat, and let me whisper. There’s 
something going on in this place that I don’t know 
about. Agnes and Sam whisper and mutter to each 
other and I’ve heard enough to know that they’re 
only waiting for Mother to—die before they bring 
some plans of their own to a head. I’m awfully 
afraid they will keep us both here till they get away 
themselves. Sam told me today I couldn’t cross 
over to Lunette any more.” 

I rose right up at that. 

“What! stay here days, perhaps weeks, while my 
father and—and Burr think I am drowned? Well, 
I reckon not! I’ll show your Sam that I’ll not stay 
a minute longer than I want to.” 


The Mystery of Tumult Rock 


117 


“Pretty big talk, Pat,” Joan said softly. “But 
what can you do?” 

For the first time I thought of my revolver. Now 
doesn’t that show that a real seventeen-year-old girl 
isn’t a bit like one of those movie heroines who al¬ 
ways flash a loaded weapon in the villain’s face at 
precisely the right moment? I’ve longed all my 
life, or at least ever since I was old enough to see 
movies, to get a horse-shoe-shaped-mustache vil¬ 
lain in a tight place and then carelessly pull out my 
trusty gun and make him open the door, or drop 
the knife or unlock the trunk that had the papers 
in, or whatever it was that he ought to be doing to 
make the story turn out right. Now here was my 
chance—and where was my revolver ? I remembered 
having it when I crossed the ridge and now it was 
gone! To save my life I couldn’t tell how or where. 


118 The Mystery of Tumult Rock 

It made me feel awfully cast down and discouraged. 
“Come to supper,” Agnes said, sticking in her 


head at the door. 


CHAPTER VIII 

NIGHT 

We ate at a little table drawn into the farther- 
corner of the room in which Joan’s mother lay. She 
seemed to be asleep and we talked only in whispers. 
Agnes brought us in bacon and eggs and coffee and 
bread from one of the little rooms off the big one. 
I didn’t know but she and Sam would insist on 
eating with us, but Sam kept out of sight and Agnes 
waited on us quite nicely. The food was good 
enough but now and then a picture of our own sup¬ 
per table with Billy and Burr and Pryor all stand¬ 
ing up when I came into the room in my yellow or¬ 
gandy or my little blue silk mull, made me choke 
over my coffee. 


119 


120 


The Mystery of Tumult Rock 


Joan looked at me anxiously. I reckon she was 
beginning to realize how bad it was going to be for 
me away from Billy and she was sweet and gentle 
with me all during the meal. Afterwards we 
wrapped ourselves in the blankets off her bed and 
went and sat out on the rocks. There wasn’t any 
moon but the stars were bright and anyway it was 
better than whispering in the big room or crowd¬ 
ing into her tiny one. Joan told me a lot about her 
school life and her plans for becoming an opera 
singer when she was a little older. It turned out 
that she was nineteen, two years older than I, 
though she didn’t act that old. She told me one 
thing that surprised me a good deal. She had a 
father, a wealthy man who lived in Philadelphia 
and he’d been sent for to see her mother. 

I didn’t like to ask questions, but Joan went on 


The Mystery of Tumult Rock 


121 


and told me of her own accord that her mother and 
father had been separated ever since she was a 
baby and that she’d only seen him a few times in 
her life. 

“He came to the conservatory to see me last win¬ 
ter,” she said. “He told the professor who he was 
and I was sent for and introduced. Think of it! 
Being introduced to your own father!” 

“Was he—nice?” I whispered, taking her hand 
in mine. 

“Oh, yes. He was lovely to me; told me that he 
had thought about me for years and if anything 
ever went wrong I was to let him know and he 
would come. When I found Mother was so ill I 
asked her if he shouldn’t be sent for and after a 
while she agreed to it. Now I think she is just 
waiting to see him before she—let’s go. I think 


122 


The Mystery of Tumult Rock 


she did something that she is sorry about and she 
wants his forgiveness before she dies.” 

“When will he come?” I asked. 

“He ought to be here now. Sam went away for 
two days last week and Agnes said it was to tele¬ 
graph. I think he expects to go down to Terminus 
tomorrow and wait for my father.” 

I sighed. That meant another day and night 
here. I knew when Joan’s father—or anybody’s fa¬ 
ther for that matter—got here he wouldn’t keep me 
a prisoner another minute. 

While we sat there talking Mrs. Mar chant— 
somehow I never learned to call her that—I always 
thoughi of her just as Joan’s mother'—had anoth¬ 
er attack of pain and her screams brought Joan in¬ 
to the house. I slipped away because I couldn’t 
bear to hear her. I’d gone quite a ways before I 


The Mystery of Tumult Rock 


123 


discovered that Fd blundered onto the path to The 
Bridge and I thought as long as I was there I 
might as well go and look at that rock again. I 
couldn’t get the idea out of my head that I might 
be able to cross yet tonight. 

I .heard voices as I came around the ledge. Sam 
was there talking to somebody who was crossing. 
Right away 1 thought of Joan’s father. Perhaps 
that was why Sam hadn’t let us across. He was 
expecting Mr. Marchant and he needed me there 
for a witness or something. I didn’t stop to reason 
it out. I just stepped into the shadow of a rock 
and waited, watching the tiny spark of the stran¬ 
ger’s lantern following Sam across. I was so glad, 
for I thought I would get back to The Camp that 
night after all. I began to picture my return. 

Billy would be out searching the woods and Burr 


124 


The Mystery of Tumult Rock 


with him. Pryor would probably be in the house 
waiting to see if I came in from another direction. 
He’d jump when he saw me and say, 

“Well, you Pat! This does cap the climax. IPs 
down to the lowlands for you, that’s a cinch.” 

Then he’d blow the big horn and Burr would come 
running and Billy, and I’d get my arms around 
Billy’s neck and hug all the scold right out of him. 

The picture made me so homesick that I didn’t 
stop to watch Joan’s father any longer but ran 
back to the hut and beckoned her to come outside. 

“Mother’s asleep,” she said, her poor little face 
all white with feeling. “Want to go to bed now, 
Pat?” 

“Your father’s here!” I whispered and drew her 
onto the path. “I saw him crossing the ridge with 
Sam. Oh, Joan, isn’t it great?” 


The Mystery of Tumult Rock 125 

She didn’t more than half believe me, I think, 
but she hurried along with me and just before we 
came to the turn where the ledge projects, we 
heard their voices. I reckon we’ll never know what 
made us slip into the shadow of that big rock and 
listen. 

“You took your time about getting here, I must 
say,” growled Sam. “Thought you were never com¬ 
ing.” 

“You didn’t figure on all I had to do at my end,” 
another voice answered. “I got here as soon as I 
could. Has the old girl croaked yet?” 

Well, I thought that was a pretty way for a man 
to speak of his wife, but I didn’t dare say anything 
to Joan. Right there, though, I felt her touch my 
arm and she put her lips to my ear and whispered: 


“Pat, that’s not my father!” 


126 


The Mystery of Tumult Rock 


I lost what Sam said because of that but I didn’t 
lose a word of what came next. 

“What have you done with the young one?” 

“She’s here yet, and another that walked into 
trouble. Damned if I know what to do with either 
of them now.” 

“Let ’em shuffle for themselves when the old lady 
kicks off.” 

“That’s what I’d planned but the Marchant kid 
knows about—well, Conway, you know.” 

There was a low whistle. 

“That puts a different face on it. I don’t see 
what you wanted to do such a damned foolish thing 
for, Sam. You might’ve knowed it’d complicate 
matters.” 

“Foolish! It was the chance of my life and I 
took it, you bet! Shunted, you might say, right in- 


The Mystery of Tumult Rock 


127 


to my hands after all these years. Agnes has been 
a different woman ever since.” 

“Well, if you got any satisfaction out of it, that’s 
your affair,” the stranger said with a shrug. “But 
about the kid—you ain’t taking any chances of her 
blabbing?” 

“Agnes says she’ll keep a still tongue in her head 
if her mother tells her to. I don’t know—” 

“Don’t trust none of ’em, Sam. Better give ’em 
both a toss over the wall before we pull out. It’s 
safer.” 

“We can decide that later,” Sam said, T 
thought a little uneasily. “Agnes won’t leave while 
the Missus lives and we’ve got to get things in bet¬ 
ter shape here. Come on up to the house and have 
something to eat.” 

They moved off together and Joan and I clutched 


128 


The Mystery of Tumult Rock 


each other in utter terror. We didn’t need any 
explanation of what they were planning. It was 
perfectly clear to me that we were in the hands of 
desperate men. 

“Joan,” I said suddenly, “did Sam shoot Mr. 
Conway?” 

“Yes,” Joan said, and I could hear her teeth 
chattering with cold and fear. “He came up be¬ 
hind me and shot him right over my shoulder.” 

“But why? What had Mr. Conway done to him?” 

“It was his sister. He—took Agnes away from 
her home, you know, and then deserted her and she 
didn’t have any money and her baby died and— 
then mother found her. Mother took her into her 
own house and looked after her and ever since that 
time she has worshiped the ground mother walks 
on. Sam always said he’d get his chance at Mr. 


The Mystery of Tumult Rock 


129 


Conway some time and when it came of course he 
took it. I—didn’t blame him.” 

“But your mother?” I asked her. “Surely your 
mother wasn’t willing that a man—even if he had 
done wrong—should be shot and killed?” 

“Mother—Mother—” Joan began miserably, “Oh, 
Pat, don’t you see? He—Mr. Conway—had treated 
mother like he had Agnes; only mother was mar¬ 
ried and had me, and Mr. Conway fell in love with 
her and persuaded her to run off with him. And 
after father got a divorce Mr. Conway wouldn’t 
marry her, but left her to get along the best way 
she could with me. He’d grown jealous of her voice, 
and because all the managers offered her more mon¬ 
ey than they did him he hated her and finally told 
her she could shift for herself. She put me in a 
school and sang until her throat got weak and she 


130 


The Mystery of Tumult Rock 


had to give it up. She’d saved enough from her big 
concerts to live on and I think father has helped 
with my expenses. But she hated Mr. Conway as 
bad as Agnes and Sam did and when she found that 
he was really here within reach she sent me down 
to sing to his playing so Sam could get his chance.” 

“How dreadful!” I said. “How perfectly dread¬ 
ful!” 

“I don’t know,” Joan answered. “He’d ruined 
two lives. It was only fair that he should give his 
own to pay. But, Pat—what’s to become of us? 
Do you suppose if I were to go to Sam and tell him 
we’d swear never, never to breathe a word of what 
we knew that he’d let us go?” 

“Sam might—not the new man!” I answered, af¬ 
ter a little thought. “There’s something more going 


The Mystery of Tumult Rock 


131 


on here than we know about, Joan. What is that 
strange man here for anyway?” 

“Oh, Pat, I don’t know. I wish we were down in 
the nice safe world where girls are going to par¬ 
ties, and families are out driving in their own cars 
and the streets are full of happy, natural people 
with no horrid secrets or bad men or anything.” 

She leaned her arm against the rock and put her 
face against it. 

“Never mind, honey,” I coaxed her. “It’ll all 
come out right. We’ve got to make it come out 
right. In the first place, I don’t believe my father 
and Burr will just give up and say that I’m 
drowned in the Black Pool and that’s all there is 
to it. I don’t care if Sam did leave my hat outside. 
I know Billy will know I have more sense than to 


132 


The Mystery of Tumult Rock 


let myself get drowned in there. I’ll bet he is out 
looking for me now.” 

“He’ll never find you here,” Joan said forlornly. 

“Maybe he will. I found the path, didn’t I?” 

“It was just an accident. You happened to be 
sitting where you could see it. I’ve seen your fa¬ 
ther stand right there and look across at Tumult 
and once I heard him tell your young man that 
probably no human being had ever stepped on that 
heap of rocks.” 

“Where were you when you heard that?” I asked 
eagerly. 

“Behind the rock that Sam has stopped up the 
chute with. Pat, where are you going?” 

I was running like a wild thing back to the rock. 

“If you could hear him across The Bridge, why 
couldn’t he hear us—if we shout?” 


The Mystery of Tumult Rock 


133 


“He could, if he happened to be up this high. But 
you know as well as I do that there’s just one 
chance in a hundred of his being there.” 

“We’ll take that chance then,” 1 said. “Come 
on.” 

We hurried, stumbling and falling, over the rough 
path and finally came at last to the place that was 
the closed door to all my hopes. And you can be¬ 
lieve it or not, just as you please, but away off on 
Lunette there were tiny dancing lights that meant 
Billy had a searching party out: 

“You see?” I asked Joan happily. I cupped my 
hands about my mouth to send out a long, loud, 
“Halloo,” and the next thing I knew a big, soft, 
smothery something was thrown over my head and 
face and I was picked up and carried rapidly away. 


CHAPTER IX 


IN THE HOUR OF DEATH 

“In the hour of death, after this life’s whim, 
When the heart beats low, and the eyes grow 
dim. 

And pain has exhausted every limb— 

The lover of the Lord shall trust in Him.” 

Joan’s voice came softly from the room where 
her mother lay. I was huddled in a heap on her 
bed of pine boughs, worn out with the struggle I 
had had with my captor. It was Sam, of course, 
and even though he was a £>retty large sized man, 
I’d given him quite a hard job getting me back to 
the hut. I fought and kicked till he must have 
been glad enough to dump me down on the bough 


134 


The Mystery of Tumult Rock 


135 


bed and shut the door. Joan was locked in with 
me at first, but after a while Agnes came and told 
her to come out. Her mother was much weaker and 
she wanted Joan. The door was left unlocked but 
I knew it was of no use to try to get out. They 
were all in there—Joan, Agnes, Sam, and I sup¬ 
posed the strange man, though I didn’t hear his 
voice in the occasional low tones of the others. 

Mrs. Mar chant was dying. Joan knew it, and 
Agnes, and so did I. I felt sorry for the poor 
woman but I couldn’t help wondering what her 
death was going to mean to us. Would it hasten 
the plans of Sam and his friends or would it cause 
a delay which might hold some hope for us? 

I wondered where Joan had found the quaint old 
words she was singing to her mother. I wondered 
how even at that sad time—for of course after all 


136 


The Mystery of Tumult Rock 


she was Joan’s mother and it must be a terrible 
sorrow to know that she was dying—I wondered 
at the wonderful, golden sweetness of that voice. 
There was no doubt of Joan’s future career, pro¬ 
vided those beasts let us loose to pursue a career. 

“When the will has forgotten the lifelong aim, 
And the mind can only disgrace its fame, 

And a man is uncertain of his own name— 

The power of the Lord shall fill this frame.” 

“Come out into the other room,” Agnes said 
harshly. “Miss Joan wants you.” 

I went out and knelt beside Joan where she held 
her mother’s hand. I understood her need of some¬ 
body young, and warm, and friendly at this awful 
time. Agnes’ eyes were red and every now and 
then she put her apron to her eyes and sobbed aloud. 


The Mystery of Tumult Rock 


137 


Sam looked sorry too, as much as his awful face 
would let him. I was thankful that the strange 
man wasn’t in the room. 

The sick woman lay with closed eyes. Her face 
was as white as the pillows and only the faintest 
stirring of the sheet above her heart told that she 
was alive at all. 

“Sing,” she whispered, when Joan had stopped. 
“Sing, my girl—sing.” 

“When the last sigh is heaved, and the last 
tear shed. 

And the coffin is waiting beside the bed, 

And the widow and child forsake the dead— 
The angel of the Lord shall lift this head.” 

“Oh, Joan, how dreadful,” I whispered. “Sing 


something else. Sing ‘Son of my Soul.’ ” 


138 


The Mystery of Tumult Rock 


She shook her head. 

There was a little silence then, the woman in the 
bed seeming to be asleep or unconscious. I looked 
about from the faces of the brother and sister to 
the open windows through which came the soft 
murmur of the night breeze. The room was dimly 
lighted with a lantern which filled the air with 
horrid kerosene fumes. Joan knelt on, her face 
buried in the covers of the bed. Her mother’s 
breath came more and more faintly, and it seemed 
to me we could watch the lessening of each move¬ 
ment of the sheet. 

* 

All at once a remembrance of a certain evening 
I’d spent last winter in my own room came into my 
head. I don’t know what set it apart in my mind 
from a hundred other evenings but something did. 
It was raining and Billy was down town on busi- 


The Mystery of Tumult Rock 


139 


ness. I'd slipped into a big, soft bathrobe and was 
curled up in an armchair before the fire that 
crackled and hissed in my grate. Tina was on the 
hearthrug, now and then, when she thought I didn’t 
see her, reaching for a chocolate from the box on 
the table beside me. 

My room looked its prettiest in the firelight and 
light from the rose shaded electric candles. The 
old ivory furniture and the dark shining walnut 
of the floors and woodwork gave back lights of 
their own. There was a dull green vase of Killarnev 
roses on the dressing table. Burr had sent them 
to me and as they were the first flowers I’d ever 
had from him, they were something more than 
roses. Eivery now and then I turned to look at 
them and then the fire grew warmer and the room 
prettier. It was all so comfortable, and pretty and 


140 The Mystery of Tumult Rock 

normal! That was only a few months ago, and 
here I was kneeling beside a girl Fd never seen this 
time yesterday, with a dying woman in the bed, and 
two cutthroats perfectly willing to leave our bones 
bleaching in some deep chasm of the mountains. 

Something hot splashed down on my lips and a 
little sob escaped them. Perhaps it was that which 
disturbed the sick woman. She opened her eyes 
and looked around. 

“Joan—daughter—are you there?” 

“Yes, mother.” 

“I—think Fm—going—now. So—sorry—not—to 
see—your father—first. You’ll tell him—I was 
sorry—” 

“Yes, mother.” 

“You’ll—be a better woman—than your—mother, 


J oan ?” 


The Mystery of Tumult Rock 


141 


“Oh, Mother/’ she sobbed. 

“I know, dear—I know. But—try. Agnes—” 

“I’m here, Mrs. Marchant.” 

“Take care of my—girl—will yon? Promise, 
Agnes.” 

There was a little silence while the eyes of the 
woman went to her brother’s face and back to that 
of the sick woman. Mrs. Marchant stirred a little. 

“Agnes—remember—the bond—between ns. Take 
care—of my—daughter Joan. Promise.” 

“I promise, Mrs. Marchant,” the woman said 
firmly, and I could hear the long sigh of relief from 
the bed. Sam scowled and I thought shook his 
head at his sister. 

Another long interval while the sick woman lay 
slipping into eternity. The strange man came to 
the door and looked in but Agnes motioned him 


142 


The Mystery op Tumult Rock 


angrily away. Now and then she wiped off the pale 
forehead with a handkerchief dipped in some smelly 
stuff and now and then she poured a few drops of 
medicine between her lips. Mostly, though, we just 
sat and waited for the end. 

"Joan'—” her mother said again. 

"Yes, mother.” 

"Sing—the last verse. Stand out in the room 
and let your voice out. I—want—to go with—it in 
my ears.” 

Joan stumbled out onto the floor and seeing the 
poor thin hand groping about, I took it into my 
own. Holding it so, we listened while Joan sang 
the last verse of the old, old song her mother loved. 

"For even the purest delight may pall, 

And power must fail, and the pride must fall, 


The Mystery op Tumult Rock 


143 


And the love of the dearest friends grow 
small— 

But the glory of the Lord is all in all.” 

She found that glory, poor, poor soul before Joan 
had come to the end. I saw the little smile, heard 
the little gasp that meant the finish to a life which 
however unconsciously was working such pain and 
trouble to so many people now. I’d never seen a 
woman die before, but I knew. I stretched out 
my hand to close the sightless eyes, but Agnes was 
before me. She thrust me backwards with a single 
gesture, nearly knocking me over on the floor. Joan 
knew too what had happened and she burst into a 
wail. As soon as I could I got her into her little 
room and closed the door. 


CHAPTER X 


TWENTY-FOUR HOURS 

Long after poor Joan had sobbed herself to sleep 
on the bough bed with my arm around her, I lay 
awake thinking. I couldn’t see any way out of this 
tangle for us. There was a gleam in that strange 
man’s eyes, a set to Sam’s hard mouth that told me 
they wouldn’t trust their liberty, perhaps even their 
lives, to a couple of girls. With the death of Mrs. 
Marchant our last hold on Sam was gone. 

To be sure, there was Agnes. I thought she would 
keep her promise for she had weighed the matter 
like one accustomed to carrying out her word. But 
she was a woman and even if she allied herself 
with us we were three women against two desperate 


144 


The Mystery of Tumult Rock 145 

men. And my revolver was gone. That gave me an 
idea. Perhaps Agnes knew where it was and could 
get it for us. I fancied I could make those gentle¬ 
men open up The Bridge path if I once got that 
gun in my hands. 

Over and over again my thoughts turned back 
to The Camp. You certainly do think of the sil¬ 
liest things when you are in danger, I found that 
out. I had a bright red silk kimono that Tina was 
crazy about and I wouldn’t give it to her because 
I liked it myself. I remember that between my 
plans to get the revolver and to coax Agnes into 
helping us away I kept saying to myself, 

“I know Tina’ll take my red kimono. I know 
she’s wearing my red silk kimono now.” 


Wasn’t it silly? 


146 


The Mystery of Tumult Rock 


I fell asleep at last, thinking of what I’d say to 
Tina when I got back and caught her wearing it. 

The sun was high when we woke up. I stared 
around at the rough rock and log walls, wondering 
what had happened to my room. Then I remem¬ 
bered, and my heart turned right over when I real¬ 
ized where we were. 

We stayed in the hut all that day. When we 
went out to breakfast we found that Agnes had 
moved Mrs. Marchant’s body to a little room where 
she herself had slept and I looked at her gratefully. 
It would have been awful to eat and talk and spend 
your time in the same room with that still pres¬ 
ence. The reason we had to spend it in the hut 
at all was because Sam and the stranger had gone 
away before we were up and they had locked and 
barred all the doors and windows. I thought prob- 


The Mystery of Tumult Rock 147 

ably they had gone to make arrangements about Mrs. 
March ant’s funeral and I wondered how they would 
dispose of us before the necessary people got there. 

When I got Joan nicely settled by the window, 
reading a chapter out of a Bible I’d found in her 
room, I hunted up Agnes and opened a conversa¬ 
tion. It wasn’t easy. 

“Agnes,” I said, “you must have thought a great 
deal of Miss Joan’s mother.” 

“I thought enough of her to take care of her to 
the day of her death,” she said in a dry kind of 
voice. 

“And Miss Joan? You love Miss Joan?” 

“Why should I?” she snapped. “I ain’t never 
knowed her to speak of.” 

This didn’t seem to be a promising vein so I 


opened another. 


148 


The Mystery op Tumult Rock 


“How soon will the funeral be—Mrs. Marchant’s, 
I mean?” 

“Didn’t know there was going to be a funeral.” 

“Won’t they send the—the body back to Phil¬ 
adelphia—to Mr. Marchant?” 

She looked at me very coldly. 

“So Miss Joan’s been talking, has she? I’d a 
thought she’d want to keep some things to herself.” 

“She only told me a little—just what I asked 
her,” I soothed her. “Will you go back to Phila¬ 
delphia with—Mrs. Marchant?” 

“I ain’t made my plans. And you won’t get 
nothing out of me about Sam neither, young lady, 
for all your mealy-mouthed pumping. Might as well 
go on back to the other room and talk to Miss Joan.” 

T was beginning to think so too but T tried once 


more. 


The Mystery op Tumult Rock 


149 


“You promised her mother you’d look out for 
Miss Joan/’ I said. “I’d like to take her back to 
The Camp with me and my father will see that she 
reaches her father safely. Don’t you think that 
would be best?” 

She shut her mouth up just like a steel trap and 
took hold of my arm and led me to the door. I 
went in without another word. Agnes certainly 
wasn’t a talkative person. 

Joan and I talked in low tones all morning, tell¬ 
ing each other whatever we thought would throw 
any light on the subject of our difficulty. Joan 
remembered that she had heard her mother say once 
that Sam had served a light prison sentence and 
we thought probably the stranger was some pal of 
his who had joined him for this new enterprise, 
whatever it was. It wasn’t a cheerful thought. 


150 The Mystery op Tumult Rock 

Darkness came and the men hadn’t come back 
yet. Agnes gave us our supper and suggested that 
we go to bed early as Sam would be better pleased 
to find us out of the way when he came in. We 
took this hint and crept away, though not to sleep. 
The long day in the stuffy hut, the atmosphere of 
death and depression that hung over us, made us 
both wakeful and we lay a long time not speaking, 
but just listening to the sound the wind made out¬ 
side. We heard Sam and the other man come in 
after a while and there was a great deal of low¬ 
voiced conversation outside of our door. I heard 
Agnes say once, 

“I passed my promise and that’s all there is to 
it. It ain’t no use to talk about it.” 

There was another murmur from one of the men 


and then she said sharply, 


The Mystery of Tumult Rock 


151 


“I ain’t agoing to be a party to any such thing. 
Why n’t you turn ’em both loose and make your 
getaway while the going is still good?” 

“I ain’t so sure it is good/’ Sam answered, this 
time loud enough to be heard. “That guy at The 
Camp—” 

“Shut up, can’t you?” Agnes interrupted. “Do 
you want them girls to hear?” 

They moved away out of earshot and I could have 
cried with disappointment. What “guy” at The 
Camp? Billy or Pryor or Burr? And what about 
him? Did it mean that one of The Camp men was 
on the trail of our hiding place, or was there some 
connection between the “job” Sam and his friend 
had on hand and The Camp? I’d have given my 
prettiest evening gown to know. 

Along toward midnight there was a sudden shuf- 


152 


The Mystery of Tumult Rock 


fling of footsteps and the sound of Agnes’ crying. 

I sat up straight and listened. Something mighty 
strange and weird was taking place out in that 
room and after a while I crept quietly to the door 
and opened it a crack. It was dark and the night 
wind was blowing through the open door. I went 
cautiously forward. Nobody in the two little rooms, 
nobody in the whole hut apparently but Joan and 
me. I crept fearfully to the bed where the body 
of Mrs. Marchant had been placed and put out my 
hand, trembling all over as I did so. It was as I 
dimly suspected—the body was gone. 

I went back and bent over Joan. 

“Wake up, dear, wake up!” I called. 

She stirred and murmured something in her sleep. 
I got her awake at last and made her understand 


The Mystery of Tumult Rock 


153 


what had happened. She was wild with rage and 
fear. 

“How did they dare—my mother!” she said. “Oh, 
Pat, do you suppose they—they—” 

I knew what she meant but I wouldn’t talk about 
it. 

“Let’s hurry after them and see if we can find 
out what they are doing,” I suggested. “It’s barely 
possible that they have an—an undertaker across 
The Bridge and are taking her over.” 

“They couldn’t—you know they never could get 
her across that narrow place,” Joan protested, and 
I didn’t think they could either, but there wasn’t 
anything else to say. We hurried on our clothes 
and left the hut, the cold night air making us shiver. 
There was no one in sight and no sound of voices 


154 


The Mystery of Tumult Rock 


to guide us. We hurried down to The Bridge but 
it was deserted. 

“ W-where shall we go now?” Joan asked, her 
teeth chattering with mingled chill and fear. 

“Let’s walk around. We may run into them.” 

We walked for perhaps half an hour but didn’t 
see any one and when we came in sight of the hut 
once more a light was burning. We hurried in and 
confronted Agnes and the two men. 

“Where have you put her?” Joan raved. “Sam, 
Agnes, where is my mother?” 

Agnes went up and put her arm around the girl, 
the first and only caress I ever saw her offer. 

“She’s all right, Miss Joan. She’s in a safe place. 
Don’t you worry.” 


“Yes, but where—where?” 


The Mystery of Tumult Rock 


155 


“Quit talking, Agnes,” Sam said. “We’re looking 
after your mother all right,” he told Joan. 

And that’s all we could get out of any of them, 
though Joan pleaded and raged alternately. We 
went back to bed at last and fell asleep, not to 
wake this time till broad daylight. 

We knew the first thing in the morning that some 
kind of plan was on foot. Agnes was packing bed¬ 
ding and dishes into boxes and Sam and the other 
man, who, we learned, was “Spud” Newton, spent 
the day in knocking the rude furniture to pieces 
and tearing down the walls of the hut. By night 
there was only a rough shelter under the walls of 
the mountain against which the hut had been built. 
I noticed that Agnes had saved enough of the pine 
boughs to make one bed and Joan and I would have 


156 


The Mystery of Tumult Rock 


liked very much to know who was expected to oc¬ 
cupy it. 

Joan thought the men were going to take us over 
to The Bridge and let us find our way to The Camp, 
after which they would go on down to Terminus, 
leaving Agnes to follow later. I had my own ideas 
about who would be left, and the party didn’t in¬ 
clude Agnes nor Sam and Spud. I only hoped that 
was their plan. If the place was once free of them 
I was sure we could hold out until Billy or Burr 
would happen close enough to The Bridge to see 
the signal I would erect. I’d already decided on 
the time-honored petticoat and asked Joan if she 
had one, as I wear bloomers with my climbing skirt. 
That made her think of her clothes and she went 
to look for them in the boxes Agnes was filling. 
Nothing of hers was included. 


The Mystery op Tumult Rock 


157 


“Your things have already been sent,” Agnes said, 
with tight lips. It seemed a physical pain to her 
when she had to give out any information. 

“Where?” 

“You’ll find that out later,” was all the satisfac¬ 
tion we got. 

One thing that happened that day gave me some¬ 
thing to think of—not that I didn’t have enough al¬ 
ready. I came around a twist in the oath and there 
were Sam and Spud conferring over a piece of 
paper Spud held. I know a blue print when I see 
it and I recognized this wide-spread sheet at once 
though Sam swept it out of sight as soon as he 
saw me. But as I walked away as though I hadn’t 
seen the men I was remembering a sheet that looked 
exactly like that. It had lain on Pryor’s desk at 
The Camp and he and Billy had pored over it a 


158 


The Mystery of Tumult Rock 


good many hours. It was the plan of the New 
Western Bank Building of which Pryor Humphry 
was president and it had been lately completed in 
Denver. I knew that the day before I had found The 
Bridge—how many months ago it seemed now!— 
I’d heard Pryor say he expected the place would 
be ready for occupancy in a few days. 

What were these rough, ignorant men doing with 
that blue print, I asked myself. Of course it was 
conceivable that it was the plan of some other build¬ 
ing, but still I was sure it was not. There was 
the funny, humpy place that was the directors’ 
wing Pryor was so keen on. I’d picked out his 
office on it a dozen times and he’d promised me 1 
should have a special chair of my own there. The 
thing that made me get cold all over was the 
thought that perhaps this was the very print that 


The Mystery of Tumult Rock 


159 


belonged to Pryor and these men had stolen it from 
his desk. For the first time I began to connect 
our imprisonment with The Camp and to know 
little tremors of terror for my menfolks down there. 

Night came and we had supper around a tiny 
campfire that Sam built. If it hadn’t been so dread¬ 
ful I think I would have enjoyed that primitive 
meal, cooked on hot stones and eaten in the shadow 
of the great peaks. The firelight cast queer shad¬ 
ows on the faces of the party and I’m bound to say 
that Joan’s little face looked quite as sinister as 
that of Agnes, and I don’t doubt that mine did too. 
Sinister! That was the word I’d been trying to 
find all day. The very air was full of sinister mean¬ 
ing. The hurried preparations for something we 
knew nothing of, the whispered directions which 
were only half understood, the breaking up of the 


160 


The Mystery of Tumult Rock 


housekeeping arrangements of the hut, all bore 
something furtive and sinister about them. 

After supper Sam beckoned to Spud and they 
went off hurriedly in the opposite direction to The 
Bridge. I drew Joan away with me. 

“Now, honey, listen/’ I said when we were out of 
sight. “I’m going to stay right by the rock as long 
as we’re allowed to. If there’s any passing back 
and forth here tonight I want to see it and there 
may come a moment when the rock is left out of 
the chute and we can get across.” 

We both had our sweaters and heavy shoes on. 
It got so cold at night that you had to wear al¬ 
most winter clothes. We found the nook under 
the ledge and there we crouched, determined not to 
be dislodged by anything short of physical force. 


CHAPTER XI 


THE CAVE 

The hours dragged by till it seemed to me we’d; 
been all night in our hiding place before I heard 
Sam’s voice. He was coming from the direction of 
where the hut had stood and Spud was with him. 
They were hurrying along, not troubling to lower 
their voices at all. In the starlight I could see that 
Spud was carrying something carefully under his 
arm. 

“We got to speed up a bit to make connections 
with Jim,” Sam was saying. “Sure he’ll have the 
car above Terminus?” 

“Sure. And don’t speed too fast along that dog- 


161 


162 


The Mystery of Tumult Rock 


goned path, of yours unless you’re willing to take 
chances on your baggage.” 

“My baggage ain’t half as important as yours,” 
Sam replied, glancing over his shoulder. “I sure 
will be glad when we get shet of that stuff. I ain’t 
had no dealings with it before.” 

“Well, I have,” Spud answered grimly. “Plenty 
dealings and come out at the top of the heap too. 
This time tomorrow, boy, and we’ll be ahikin’ it 
for ’Frisco with our pockets bulgin’—eh?” 

“Hope so.” Sam’s voice was trailing off in the 
distance and pretty soon we heard him tugging at 
the rock which closed the chute. 

“They’re both going to cross,” I whispered to Joan. 
“They can’t pull that rock back behind them and 
then will be our chance.” 

“You forget Agnes,” Joan said and even as she 


The Mystery of Tumult Rock 


163 


spoke the woman’s spare figure came slowly along 
the trail. She walked as though she hated what 
she was about to do. Presently Sam hailed her and 
she hurried a little. 

“You see,” Joan said despairingly, “they’ve got 
it all thought out. Do you suppose Sam and that 
man are coming back here at all or will they leave 
us here with Agnes to starve?” 

“No such luck,” I said. “I only wish they would. 
I reckon you and I could handle Agnes, if that was 
all we had to contend with.” 

Joan gave me a warning pinch. 

“She’s coming back.” 

We heard her sigh as she passed, a long drawn 
sigh of weariness and pain. It made me feel a 
little sorry for the wdman. I couldn’t see what 


164 


The Mystery of Tumult Rock 


she would get out of this affair whichever way it 
turned. 

When we thought the men were safely across we 
went down to the path just to be sure it was closed. 
It was. Sam and Spud weren’t taking any chances 
even in the darkness. We waited there an hour or 
so, I don’t know what for but I reckon because it 
was as good a place to stay as any, and we were 
just thinking about starting back when I caught 
sight of something that made me sit up and take 
notice. 

“Somebody’s crossing from Lunette,” I told Joan. 
“And it’s not Sam or Spud, either.” 

“How do you know?” she asked. 

“Don’t you see? He’s carrying an electric torch¬ 
light. Spud and Sam have lanterns. Oh, Joan! 
What if it should be—Billy!” 


The Mystery of Tumult Rock 


165 


“Call to him!” she said frantically. 

“Better wait a few minutes. It may be some¬ 
body else that Sam is sending.” 

We shrank back in the shadows again and 
watched the slow, uneven progress of that tiny 
light. I could tell by the cautious way it advanced 
that it was carried by a stranger to that treacher¬ 
ous path. 

* 

“What about the rock in the chute?” Joan whis¬ 
pered. 

•' * 

I didn’t know any more than she did. We’d just 
have to wait and find out what happened, I told 
her. When the light reached the Tumult end of the 
path it disappeared, the big rock of course hiding 
it from us. We waited, listening to the occasional 
noises of falling pebbles and faint sounds of strug¬ 
gling that reached us. 


166 


The Mystery of Tumult Rock 


“He’s trying to climb over/’ I said. “If it should 
be Billy, Joan! And here we stand, not doing a 
thing to help him!” 

“Yes, and if it should be another Spud,” she re¬ 
torted. 

I’d been the one to advise caution but someway 
as I waited, hearing that desperate struggle to gain 
a footing on Tumult I became perfectly certain that 
it was Billy. I stood it as long as I could and 
then I hurried out, meaning to reconnoiter before 
I offered any help. Before I got to the rock there 
was a crashing sound, a groan and then silence. 

“It is Billy!” I cried. “They’d have left the path 
open if it was one of their own men.” 

I rushed to the top of the rock and peered over. 
Far down below a dark figure was crumpled up 
on the path. 


The Mystery of Tumult Rock 


167 


“Billy! Billy darling!” I called in an agony of 
terror. “Oh, my Billy, is it you?” 

The figure below stirred and after a bit, sat up 
and groaned again. 

“Pat—Pat,” he said faintly. “Is it Pat?” 

I almost fell backward off the rock. It was Burr. 
Someway I hadn’t once thought of his finding the 
path. I explained it in two words to Joan and 
told her to run back to the place where our things 
were and see if she could find a rope. 

“But Agnes is there,” she objected. 

“Darn Agnes,” I said and I meant it too. I was 
so wild with joy that Burr had come and so crazy 
with fear that he had hurt himself badly I felt 
equal to dealing with a dozen Agneses. “If you 
can’t find a rope, bring a couple of blankets—and 
a knife to cut them into strips,” I called after her. 


168 


The Mystery of Tumult Rock 


“Burr, are you badly hurt?” I asked him, leaning 
over the rock. 

“My leg’s—broken, I believe,” he said in a sort 
of investigating tone. “Are you all right, Pat? 
Not injured in any way?” 

“All right,” I called back cheerily, wondering 
how in the world we were ever going to hoist that 
heavy man to the top of the rock. 

In a few minutes Joan came running back and 
with her— Agues! 

“She simply would come, Pat,” Joan gasped. “I 
didn’t tell her what I wanted the blankets for.” 

“Well, I’ll tell her,” I said sternly. “Agnes, you 
listen to me. There’s a man—a friend of mine— 
hurt down there and it’s all your fault because 
you put the rock in the chute. His leg’s broken 
and we’ve got to get him up here somehow. If he 


The Mystery op Tumult Rock 


169 


can fasten those blankets around himself, do you 
think we can pull him up?” 

For a minute she looked at me and I looked at 
her. I was quite capable of dragging her to the 
precipice and pushing her over if she had bothered 
us and I reckon she must have felt it for pretty soon 
she said, exactly as though it cost her a physical 
effort to speak, 

“We can try.” 

I didn’t waste any words planning how the 
thing was to be done. We both knew the only thing 
to do was to cut those blankets in strips, tie the 
strips together and let the rope down over the rock. 
I was afraid there wouldn’t be enough of it to leave 
a good tie-hold for Burr but there was plenty. He 
had an awful time getting it knotted about him, 
for one of his arms was hurt too and there was a 


170 


The Mystery of Tumult Rock 


deep cut on his head. But at last he got the rope 
adjusted and gave the word to, “Let her go.” 

It was what Tina calls a “right sma’t piece of 
wu’k” getting Burr on Tumult. If it hadn’t been for 
Agnes’ good right arm and her left one too we 
never would have made it. (Pryor Humphry, who 
is reading this account chapter by chapter as I 
write it, says I’m treating a dramatic theme with 
entirely too much levity but I tell him that when a 
thing is dramatic enough to speak for itself there 
isn’t any need of piling on the fine writing—to keep 
that for things that need dressing up; and getting 
Burr over that rock was exciting enough to stand 
a child’s recital of it and still thrill you.) 

Where was I? Oh, yes. We were all doing our 
best and Agnes was pulling like a good one and 
after a while we really got poor Burr, with some 


The Mystery of Tumult Rock 


171 


fresh bruises from the bumps he’d got swinging 
against the rock while we were pulling, safely on 
the little plateau at the top. Agnes and Joan 
stepped back and I bent over him like a Red Cross 
nurse on the battlefield. Poor Burr! He looked 
as though he’d come off a battlefield too. The blood 
was running all over his face from the cut on his 
head and his leg twisted under him in an unnatural 
manner that wasn’t nice to see. The skin was all 
off the palms of his hands too, and altogether he 
was certainly an object to be pitied. 

“We must get him where we can dress these 
hurts,” I said straightening up. Burr didn’t seem 
to have anything special to say to me except, “Oh, 
damn!” every time he tried to move, so I thought 
we'd better not prolong the scene. “Where can we 


172 


The Mystery of Tumult Rock 


take him, Agnes? Back to the hut—or where the 
hut was?” 

“I can’t haul him that far and he couldn’t stand 
it if we could,” Agnes answered. “Lemme think 
what to do.” 

We let her think, while I stood smoothing Burr’s 
hair and telling him it would be all right pretty 
soon, never mind. It was all I could do in the way 
of comfort. You can’t take a man’s hands in yours 
when the skin is all off his palms; nor can you lay 
your cheek lovingly to his when that part of him 
is all raw and bruised. I’d have liked to do both 
of those things for my heart was just aching with 
pity for him. 

Agnes stood there biting her finger nails and 
glaring at us. After a while she said, shooting out 


The Mystery of Tumult Rock 


173 


her words as though they were so many little bul¬ 
lets intended to hurt us, 

"I got to take you to the cave, I guess. I don’t 
know what Sam’ll say to it but there don’t seem 
to be no place else.” 

“What cave?” I asked. “How far is it?” 

She gave me one of those what-business-is-it-of 
yours glances and stooped down and took Burr’s 
head and shoulders in her arms. 

“Now you girls ketch holt of his middle—never 
mind about that bad leg—it’ll do just as well if 
you don’t tetch it—and follow me.” 

I was glad we didn’t have to go very far. I could 
hear poor Burr saying things under his breath that 
he certainly wouldn’t have approved of my hearing. 
I would have talked to Joan and pretended I didn’t 
know what Burr was saying, but I needed all my 


174 


The Mystery of Tumult Rock 


breath for the task we had on hand. It wasn't far 
—only about sixty feet—before we turned off sharp¬ 
ly and stopped before what looked just like a big 
heap of boulders. Agnes put Burr down and be¬ 
gan to pull those rocks about and pretty soon there 
was a small opening like a door and when we went 
through it, I declare if we weren’t in a nice, cosy 
cave in the rock wall. It was warm in there and 
the bottom was smooth rock. It was pitch dark, 
but pretty soon Agnes felt around and got a can¬ 
dle and lighted it and then we could make out a 
little of what was in that cave. 

It was the most surprising place I ever saw, but 
first I’ll tell about Burr and Agnes. The sour-faced 
woman began to bustle around that cave as though 
it were a kitchen she’d been doing the work in for 
the last ten years. She got some more blankets 


The Mystery of Tumult Rock 


175 


from a sort of shelf in the rock and she got one 
under Burr and the other over, quick as a wink. 
Then she brought some water in a dish, and a cloth 
and she bathed the blood from the cut on his head 
and the bits of gravel out of his face and hands. 
Joan and I just sat and watched her in a sort of 
stupified silence. There was a pretty deep gash 
in the poor boy’s forehead and Agnes whipped out 
some adhesive tape from her pocket and strapped 
it up. The leg she couldn’t do anything with ex¬ 
cept to lay it out as straight as possible. 

Burr didn’t ask any questions—then. He bit his 
lips and stood it and I reckon that was all that 
could be expected of him. 

“Now I’m going back to the fire and make you 
some hot coffee,” Agnes said. “You two girls stay 


176 


The Mystery of Tumult Rock 


here and give him water if he needs it but keep 
your hands off that leg!” 

She spoke as though Joan and I were filled with 
a wild desire to amputate the broken member or 
maybe practice putting it in splints. She hurried 
away and then I crowded as close to Burr as I 
could without touching some of his suffering places 
and began to ask him questions. 

“Where is my Billy?” 

“Scouring the mountains for you with a search 
party,” he answered. 

“Then he didn’t believe I was drowned in the 
Black Pool?” 

“No—neither did I. We both knew you had too 
much sense. Besides before morning we’d found—” 

“What?” I asked. 

“Tell you later—when I get that coffee,” he an- 


The Mystery of Tumult Rock 


177 


swered. “Suppose you do the talking now. Tell me 
all about everything.” 

I saw he was suffering too much to talk so I gave 
him a rapid sketch of my stay and adventures on 
Tumult Rock. When I came to Sam and Spud and 
the package they carried, Burr sat up with a groan. 

“It’s true then!'” he said. “Pat, listen to me. Is 
there any way —any way you could get across to 
Lunette and warn your father to head those men 
off?” 

“If there were don’t you think I’d have taken it 
before this? There’s The Bridge. You know what 
that is. And there’s the path with the rock in the 
opening. Do you think I could get down that 
rock ?” 

“No—no, of course not,” he said. “But Pat— 


178 


The Mystery of Tumult Rock 


somebody’s got to stop those men before they get 
down to Denver.” 

“Why?” I asked. “Are they going to rob some 
one?” 

“Rob and murder too, if my guess is right,” he 
said. “It’s the new bank building, don’t you remem¬ 
ber? There’s to be a directors’ meeting there to¬ 
morrow at ten and the vaults have already been 
filled. The money was transferred last week from 
the old building. We—Humphry and the di¬ 
rectors—have received warnings that an attack 
would be made on the place before long. Some of 
that anarchist stuff, I suppose. They placed a 
guard about it but there’s an underground passage 
leading to the vaults which is supposed to be un¬ 
known. I happen to know that two of the work¬ 
men who knew of that passage have disappeared 


The Mystery of Tumult Rock 


179 


and I’m willing to wager a tidy sum that your Spud 
is one of them. 

“But what will they do? I don’t understand,” I 
quavered. I knew something was terribly wrong 
from the excitement in Burr’s voice. He always 
prides himself on maintaining a “businesslike 
calm,” he calls it. 

“Oh, don’t you see?” he asked impatiently. “Dy¬ 
namite! That was the baggage the men were jok¬ 
ing about. The directors’ room is over the vaults 
and the vaults are over the passage. It’ll be a 
simple little trick for them to plant a time fuse, 
blow up the whole works and dig out with what 
they can carry before the fragments have settled 
down. Pryor’s been suspecting something of this 
kind. In fact he had a hint that the “stuff” was 
hid up here somewhere. That was what made your 


180 


The Mystery of Tumult Rock 


father so wild when you disappeared. If we can 
get word down to Denver and have police hiding in 
the passage our birds will walk right into the net. 
If we can get word!” 

“We’ll have to get word/’ I said. “There’s plenty 
of time yet—don’t worry. I’ll think of a wav.” 

He didn’t look much consoled by my promise. In 
fact he lay back and groaned harder than before. 

“If it wasn’t for this confounded leg—look here, 
Pat, do you suppose you could get me back onto 
that path so I could crawl over?” 

“I reckon that cut on your head has affected 
your mind, Burr,” I told him. “If I couldn’t get 
over that rock, how do you suppose you could, with 
your leg and all? Don’t be foolish.” 

Right at this point a scream rang out. It 
sounded horrible in that little place. I’d forgotten 


The Mystery of Tumult Rock 


181 


all about Joan and she was exploring the cave in 
an effort to be polite and not seem to intrude. 

I said before that the cave was the most surpris¬ 
ing place and it was. There were all sorts of shelves 
and ledges and these were stored with bedding, 
food and odds and ends. It looked as though it 
had been furnished for a hiding place which it un¬ 
doubtedly had. The back of it was in darkness and 
Joan, blundering about on her exploration tour, 
had touched something icy cold. 

“Fat, Pat! IPs dead! Oh, Pat, I touched some¬ 
thing dead! O— Oh!” 

I snatched up the candle and ran back there, 
holding it down to the thing Joan had touched. 
Poor, poor girl! It was her mother, lying there 
on the rock of the cave floor, her hands crossed and 
her hair braided in two long braids, just as we had 


182 


The Mystery of Tumult Rock 


seen her last in the room of the hut. 

It was a dreadful shock to us both but of course 
it was simply terrible for Joan. She cried and 
screamed until I thought they would have heard 
us on Tumult and I suppose only the almost sound¬ 
proof walls of the cave kept Agnes from hearing. 

It was just one more of the dreadful pictures I 
carried away from Tumult,—the flickering light of 
the little candle, and the still white face of the wom¬ 
an on the rock floor, Joan sobbing beside her and 
Burr almost in the darkness beyond. 


CHAPTER XII 


AGNES 

It’s a funny thing to me how old people—truth¬ 
ful old people too—exaggerate and change things 
that happened when they were young, when they 
come to tell about them in after years. There’s 
Kitty Davenport’s mother, for instance. She’s so 
fat she waddles when she walks and she has more 
chins than I have evening gowns. She wears a 
thing she calls a transformation. I know because 
once Kitty and I were in the room when her maid 
was doing her hair. She rouges her cheeks and 
lip-sticks her mouth and puts black on her eyebrows. 

And yet with my own ears I heard her tell that 
the handsomest man in the township once fought 


183 


184 


The Mystery of Tumult Eock 


a duel with another man who said that the girl he 
was engaged to was prettier than Kitty’s mother. 
Of course there’s only one name for a story like that 
but you sort of hesitate to call your best friend’s 
mother a liar. I reasoned it out something like 
this: 

Her young man—the handsome one—had taken 
her somewhere and somebody made fun of her looks 
before him. I realize of course that she couldn’t 
have been quite so fat and that very likely she had 
more hair of her own then; but still you could 
hardly blame the second young man for laughing. 
Her escort though was a very chivalrous person and 
probably he struck or even knocked down the as- 
perser of his lady’s looks. The incident came to 
Kitty’s mother—of course she wasn’t Kitty’s or 
anybody’s mother then—and the duel story is what 


The Mystery of Tumult Rock 


185 


her memory made of it after twenty years. 

So to be on the safe side I’m writing all this down 
just as it happened and then I won’t always be ask¬ 
ing myself when I tell my grandchildren about it, 
though of course I have plenty of hair and no pos¬ 
sibility of more than one chin, “Now did this really 
happen or am I imagining it?” 

Now I’ll go back to the cave and Joan and her 
mother. It was really Burr who got her quiet at 
last. He called her over to him and talked to her 
so kindly and patted her hand, even if his own was 
smarting like fire, that after while she stopped cry¬ 
ing and began to tell Burr all she had told me of 
her life and her mother’s. 

I was awfully glad Burr had such a good effect 
on her and I was just as sorry as I could be for the 
poor child, but I didn’t think then and I never have 


186 


The Mystery of Tumult Rock 


thought that it was the best taste possible for her 
to tell all her private affairs to a perfect stranger. 

Agnes came back with the coffee and do you know 
the dear old thing had brought enough for us too? 
I was beginning to develop a positive affection for 
Agnes. 

Joan pitched right in on her about her mother 
and Agnes told her with a good deal of dignity that 
it was the only safe place she knew to put her after 
the hut was torn down and that Sam had promised 
to arrange with an undertaker to be on Lunette 
the next afternoon. Burr and I looked at each 
other. We had a pretty good idea of how Sam In¬ 
tended to be anywhere within hailing distance of 
Lunette by tomorrow. 

Agnes had brought along some liniment and she 
proceeded to doctor up Burr’s hurts some more. 


The Mystery of Tumult Bock 


187 


He took it like a lamb and kept up a conversation 
with her all the while. I wondered if he were go¬ 
ing to tell her about Sam and Spud’s little engage¬ 
ment in Denver but he didn’t. 

There had been a sheet over Mrs. Marchant’s face 
when Joan found her and we’d left it pulled down. 
Agnes went back and began to rearrange it and I 
leaned over Burr and whispered: 

“Keep her talking when she comes back. I’m go¬ 
ing to slip away.” 

“Pat, what are you planning?” he said sternly. 
“Not to attempt that path? You shall not. It’s 
a twelve-foot drop over that rock and you’d surely 
miss it in the darkness. I forbid you to leave this 
cave.” 

I had to smile at that. Burr, helpless, mad with 
impatience to get the warning to The Camp, for- 


188 


The Mystery of Tumult Rock 


bidding me to leave! It had its funny side, though 
Burr didn’t appear to see it. 

“I won’t try the rock,” I promised him. “I— 
think I know of another way.” 

Agnes came back just then and we didn’t say any 
more. Burr began to ask her questions about the 
formation of the cave and pretty soon I strolled out 
casually as though I wanted to see what kind of a 
night it was outside. 

I had told Burr I knew of another way—and I 
did but his h'air would have risen right up with 
horror if he’d known what it was. I’d made up my 
mind I’d try The Bridge itself. 

Don’t think I didn’t realize what I was attempt¬ 
ing. I’d studied that threadlike ridge of rock too 
many times not to know that I was taking my life 
in my hands—or rather in my feet—when I under- 


The Mystery of Tumult Rock 


189 


took to cross The Bridge. And I knew too that it 
would hurt my Billy more to lose me than to have 
the bank blown up a dozen times. But—you see— 
it was my job! I was the only one who knew about 
Sam and Spud. The only one who was in a posi¬ 
tion to cross, that is. Of course Joan knew, but 
she didn’t have any responsibility in the matter 
and besides there was her voice. A gift like that 
ought to be public property and everybody ought 
to do all they can to develop it. And—this was a 
better reason than the other—I knew Joan wouldn’t 
dare try it. She’d borne all she could and her 
nerves were a wreck. 

The Bridge looked even narrower from the Tu¬ 
mult side than it had from Lunette. I had to climb 
up on some big boulders to find the end of it. I’d 


190 


The Mystery of Tumult Rock 


just reached the top of the highest boulder when 
a hand clutched my ankle and jerked me back. 

“So this is what you’re up to, young lady, is it?” 
Agnes said. “I thought as much.” 

“Let me go, Agnes,” I said. “I’ve got—I’ve got 
an important engagement on the other side!” 

“What?” she asked grimly. 

“Well—Burr Thomas needs a doctor. I’m going 
to telephone to Terminus for one.” 

“How’re you going to get him across when you’ve 
found him? The rock is still in the chute and you 
see what happened to your friend when he tried it.” 

“You’re going to take the rock away and let him 
cross the path,” I said confidently. “And it would 
save a lot of time and perhaps my neck if you’d 
take it away now and let me go that way.” 

“A neck that supports a head so full of craziness 


The Mystery of Tumult Rock 


191 


ain’t worth saving/’ she told me. “I believe to my 
soul you’re just reckless enough to try that Bridge.” 

“I surely am, unless you take the rock away.” 

“What you in such a hurry to get across for?” 
she asked. “You can wait till daylight for that 
there doctor. Chances are you’d slip and fall from 
the path if I did let you across. You ain’t got no 
light.” 

“Oh, I can feel my way,” I said gaily. “Dear 
Agnes—nice, sweet, accommodating Agnes, you are 
going to let me cross, aren’t you?” 

“I ain’t then,” she said crossly. “I’m letting my¬ 
self in for a good raking from Sam now—taking 
that young feller into the cave and doing for him. 
Like as not Sam’ll throw him—” she shut her lips 
as though she had said more than she meant to. 

“Throw him off the precipice, you mean? Nice, 


192 


The Mystery of Tumult Rock 


amiable brother you have, Agnes, 1 ” I said. Go¬ 
ing around shooting people at their pianos, shut¬ 
ting up young girls and planning to toss men off 
the cliffs.” 

“So you know about Conway, do you? I don’t 
wonder Sam was bent on keeping you where yon 
couldn’t talk. That tongue of yours will get you 
in trouble yet.” 

“Yet? If you don’t call this trouble, what is it 
like? Take the rock away and let me go, Agnes.” 

“Not much, I don’t,” she said, and I knew right 
away she meant it. “I told you you talked too 
much. If you hadn’t let that out about Sam’s 
shooting Conway I’d mebby let you go, but I daren’t 
now. You know too much for a girl o’ your age.” 

I sat there, my ankle in that strong hand an.d I 
thought—hard. I wondered if telling her about 


The Mystery op Tumult Rock 


193 


Sam and Spud and the bank would do any good. It 
couldn’t do any harm, I decided, so I told her to 
wait a minute while I told her what else I knew. 

“Oh, pooh, that ain’t nothing,” she said scorn¬ 
fully. “Them rich men ain’t going to miss the few 
millions they got stored away. I ain’t faultin’ Sam 
none for that.” 

“What about the men who will be killed in that 
explosion?” I asked. “Do you approve of that too?” 

“There won’t no men be killed,” she said stub¬ 
bornly. “They’re going to time that fuse for seven 
in the morning when the place’ll be empty ’cept for 
the night watchmen and they’ll be in front. Sam 
promised me,” she concluded with that air of dig 
nity she wore occasionally. 

“Maybe he did, Agnes, and you believed him, but 
I tell you he was lying to you—he is going to set it 


194 


The Mystery of Tumult Rock 


off at ten o’clock. Won’t you believe me and let me 
warn the bank in time? I’ll—I’ll ask them to be 
easy on Sam if you’ll help me across.” 

She laughed harshly. 

“Easy? Is the noose easy? Or the electric chair? 
Sam’s got more to answer for than this bank busi¬ 
ness. Do you think I’m going to let you across so’s 
you can help ’em post the police to catch my broth¬ 
er when he goes into them vaults ? My little brother. 
Sam’s ten years younger than me, and I ’most 
brought him up. Such a pretty little feller he was, 
with his big eyes that always seemed to be askin’ 
me a question and his yaller curls. It was me that 
brought him to shame with Conway and me that’s 
responsible for the kind of life he’s leading now! 
Let him get clean of this job and he’s promised me 
to start again. Just him and me in some little out- 


The Mystery of Tumult Rock 


195 


of-the-way place where Sam’ll have plenty of money 
and I can take care of him like I used to.” 

I sat looking down at her in surprise. There was 
a passion in her voice that told me I didn’t know 
much about the real Agnes. I couldn’t think of the 
ugly, wicked Sam as a little boy, clinging to a big 
sister and being loved and petted by her. I tried, 
for usually I can put myself in anybody’s place if 
I want to, but the cruel, twisted mouth of Sam 
would rise up and blot out the little boy picture ev¬ 
ery time. 

“If you love him so much, Agnes,” I began coax- 
ingly, “you’ll try to save him from adding this crime 
to his others. They’ll surely get him, whether I’m 
able to warn them or not. Tt just means that if 
they get him before the explosion it’ll be lots better 


196 


The Mystery of Tumult Rock 


for him than if they get him after. He can’t get 
away.” 

“Oh, can’t he, miss? Who told you so? He always 
has got away and I ain’t afraid he won’t this time. 
All I am afraid of is that you’ll be up to some of 
your foolishness and try to cross that Bridge.” 

“Well—Agnes—” I began slowly, as if I were 
thinking, “I suppose it is a silly thing to try. It 
wouldn’t help the bank any if I were to fall off and 
get killed, would it?” 

“It sure wouldn’t,” Agnes said heartily. “Now 
you’re beginning to talk sense. Come down off 
there and we’ll go back to the cave and see how the 
young feller’s making it. He was stewin’ consid¬ 
erable about you when I left. Said your life was 
worth all the bankers put together. I guess he’s 


The Mystery of Tumult Rock 


197 


some prejudiced in your favor/’ she added with a 
sour kind of a smile. 

“We—ell—” I gave a sigh as though I hated to 
give up my plan, but recognized it was best. “Reach 
me up your hand and help me down, Agnes.” 

She let go my ankle and held out her hand. The 
minute my foot was free I sprang out onto The 
Bridge and balanced on the slender thread of rock. 

“Tell Burr I’ve gone to warn the bank,” I called 
to her. I had one glimpse of her white, terrified 
face before I turned to face what lay before me. 


CHAPTER XIII 


ARMSTRONG GRIT 

When I was a little bit of a girl I used to love to 
sit on Billy’s lap and hear about the ancestor of 
ours who fought in the Revolutionary War. He 
wasn’t a general or a captain or even a lieutenant 
as all the Revolutionary ancestors I ever heard of 
in other families seem to have been. He was just 
a private in the ranks. But he did a thing that 
set him apart from all the other heroes I ever 
read of, in my mind at least. 

He was hurrying into Vermont with orders from 
his captain when he was taken by the British. They 
wanted to know what those orders were for it seems 
they were mighty important just at that time. 


198 


The Mystery of Tumult Rock 


199 


They were verbal orders, so this man—Jeremiah 
Armstrong, his name was—was brought before the 
British officers and ordered to tell what he knew. 
He refused. They told him they were intending to 
shoot him as a spy but if he would tell they’d let 
him go with a safe conduct pass back to his own 
lines. Jeremiah said a safe conduct pass wouldn’t 
do him very much good after he reached those lines 
and told what he’d done. So they offered him free 
passage to England, but he just shook his head and 
refused to tell. Then they tried torturing him and 
they burned the soles of his feet and stuck knives 
into the calves of his legs but still he wouldn’t 
tell. They hung him up and cut him down before 
he was dead, and he wouldn’t tell. I reckon they 
tried every kind of torture there was and he just 
kept his mouth shut and refused to say a word. 


200 


The Mystery of Tumult Rock 


Finally they took him into a clear place in a mea¬ 
dow and made a big circle of logs around him. 
They set fire to that circle of logs and told 
him it would take about two hours to roast him 
properly. They had buckets of water ready to put 
out the fire and they gave him a British flag and 
told him to raise it high when he’d had enough and 
they’d put out the fire and rescue him. 

Well, the fire burned brighter and clearer and 
now and then they could see through the smoke 
young Jeremiah sitting calmly there, the despised 
British flag at his feet. He never waved the flag 
and they never got the information they wanted so 
badly. Jeremiah just sat there and burned to death 
before he would give it to them. 

“Armstrong grit, Pat,” Billy would say, his breath 
always coming fast when he told me this story. 


The Mystery of Tumult Rock 


201 


“Be a liar, if you must, be a thief if necessity com¬ 
pels you, but never, never be a coward. You’ve got 
Armstrong blood in your veins; see that you have 
Armstrong grit in your heart.” 

I was thinking of this when I started out on The 
Bridge. It was just wide enough for me to put 
one foot in front of the other. I didn’t look down 
but I knew that on either side of me-was a chasm 
of several thousand feet. Just one shaky step— 
but I knew I musn’t think of that. 

“The way to do this thing,” I told myself, “Is 
to take it just one step at a time—goodness knows 
I can’t very well do anything else! and keep my 
mind on something else.” 

First I tried saying Evangeline. 

“This is the fore st primeval, the murmuring pines 
and the hemlocks,” but it was too realistic. It was 


202 


The Mystery of Tumult Rock 


the forest primeval and its primevalness was what 
was making me take that journey across The Bridge. 
So I tried something else, a bit of nonsense verse 
Fd picked up somewhere: 

“Down by the biller, 

There grew a green wilier, 

Weeping all night with the hank for a piller.” 

This did pretty well. I was about twenty feet 
across now and the ridge was growing rough. Little 
pieces of broken rock lay in the path and I had to 
push them aside with my foot. 

“Down by the biller —” 

Those rocks on Tumult were almost like oceau 
billows. And looking down on the peaks of the 


The Mystery of Tumult Rock 


203 


Arapahoes was like a great sea. Looking down! 
I mustn’t think of that. 

“There grew a green wilier—” 

I wondered if Joan was still sitting by Burr hold 
ing his hand and being comforted for her mother’s 
death. Joan was pretty and sweet and her voice 
was divine. I wondered if Burr would think she 
had brains. It hadn’t turned out very well—my 
showing Burr what sort of brains I had. Here was 
he, laid up with a broken leg and a cut head; here 
was Billy, turning his nice red hair gray because 
of my absence, and here was I—no, I wasn’t! I 
was home—I was at The Camp—I was anywhere 
except on this dreadful thread of rock perched up 
thousands of feet in the air. 

“Weeping all night with the hank for a piller.” 


204 


The Mystery of Tumult Rock 


I hadn’t cried once since I’d landed on Tumult. 
Joan had shed quarts of tears and of course she’d 
a right to, poor girl. But still I’d had something 
to bear, too, with the thought of Billy and being 
shut up in the dreadful place and all—and I hadn’t 
cried. 

“The Armstrong grit, Pat, the Armstrong grit!” 

I needed it tonight if I ever did. I wondered 
if Jeremiah Armstrong could see what I was doing 
and if he would think I was worthy of the name. 

Half way across. The shadow of Lunette lay 
across The Bridge now and I was depending on my 
feet to do it all. Faithful feet! I thought of Alice’s 
presents to her feet and I decided I’d get mine the 
prettiest pair of satin slippers I could buy any¬ 
where. Blessed things! I believe they’d go right 


The Mystery of Tumult Rock 206 

on, feeling, testing, but always moving, if my mind 
went to sleep and paid no attention to them. 

I mustn’t let that happen though. I needed that 
mind right on the job. What was this in the way? 
I couldn’t see without bending over, and I dared 
not bend. I sent my right foot touching it, patting 
it gently to investigate. A stone—a big stone this 
time. Could I step over it and land—on The 
Bridge ? 

'‘Down by the biller — 

Got to try it anyway. The Armstrong grit—I 
raised my right foot high, made a sort of Isadora 
Duncan swoop—and -thank Heaven! my foot came 
down on the thread of rock on the other side, in¬ 
stead of straying into nothingness. 


“There grew a green wilier—” 


206 


The Mystery of Tumult Rock 


Was Billy at The Camp or was he still out on 
the mountain? What if he should happen near The 
Bridge and see his Pat doing a tightrope stunt? 
I reckon he’d need a little of that Armstrong grit 
himself if he did. 

“Weeping all night with the lank for a piller ” 

Bank! Did I really care for that bank—for a lot 
of directors I’d never seen or expected to see? Was 
it worth my life—for it might cost me that before 
I made the other side—was it worth it for them? 
I knew it wasn’t because of the money in the vaults; 
it wasn’t to keep Sam and Spud from being whole¬ 
sale murderers; it wasn’t even that those prosper¬ 
ous bank directors might go home safely tomorrow 
to eat lunch with their families that I was cross¬ 
ing The Bridge. It was because it was my job! 


The Mystery of Tumult Rock 


207 


Oh, my Billy, your training hadn’t been for nothing! 
Maybe you hadn’t taught your Pat the things that 
eastern girls learn in their cradles. Maybe I was 
only a wild and woolly little Missourian, but at 
least I’d learned from Billy to attend to my jot)! 

Almost over, and the path growing steadily 
rougher. I remembered the last stretch which could 
be seen from Lunette and suddenly a picture which 
had etched itself on my brain stood out blackly 
now. There was a rift in The Bridge! Within 
ten feet of the solid earth a fissure had parted the 
thread of rock. How wide was it? Could I cross 
it? And if I couldn't, could I ever turn to go back 9 

My left foot, moving cautiously forward, touched 
only air. I’d come to the fissure. How to estimate 
its width? I dared not extend my foot to any dis¬ 
tance for fear of losing my balance. As closely as 


208 


The Mystery of Tumult Rock 


I could reconstruct the rift from memory and from 
the disadvantage of the faraway glimpse Fd had, 
it was about a foot and a half. I must make my 
leap cover it—two feet should do it. If I fell short 
by one little inch—! 

I stood there at the edge, my heart sick within 
me. The Armstrong grit seemed to be running out 
at my toes. It is one thing to proceed along even 
a dangerous path, knowing that at least there is 
something under your feet; it is another thing to 
leap blindly out into the dark, not knowing whether 
your foot will touch the slender thread of path 
you’ve been following, or whether you will go down 
—down— 

The starlit sky receded. I listened curiously to 
see if I could hear the sound of my own breathing; it 
seemed to have stopped. I couldn’t go on! I—was 


The Mystery of Tumult Rock 


209 


afraid! I muttered something about the Armstrong 
grit—it didn’t help. I spoke fiercely of green wil- 
lers and billers and pillers—it did no good. I bit 
my lip till I could feel the salt taste of blood on 
my tongue. And still I stood there, waiting—wait¬ 
ing—to make the leap. 

All at once through the quiet night, a voice rang 
out. Not suddenly, nor startlingly, but smoothly, 
clearly, encouragingly. 

“When the will has forgotten the lifelong aim, 
And the mind can.only disgrace its fame, 

And a man is uncertain of his own name — 

The power of the Lord shall fill this frame” 

Joan! Dear Joan! She was sending out this 
message of hope and cheer from her place on Tu¬ 
mult Rock. She was on her job too. “Uncertain 


210 


The Mystery of Tumult Rock 


of his own name.” She was wrong there. I was 
Pat—just Pat! 

I jumped. 

Of course you know I came down safely on the 
other side else I wouldn’t be writing this now. But 
you don’t know the way I stumbled across those 
last ten feet and threw myself, panting, gasping, 
laughing—on Lunette. The power of the Lord had 
filled that frame and I was safely across The 
Bridge. 


CHAPTER XIV 


BILLY 

I don’t remember how long I lay there resting. I 
know that at last I got up and called to Joan to let 
her know I was across. I heard her glad shout in 
return, then I set out for The Camp. Those were 
long miles through the darkness. I was tireder 
than I believed I ever could be. Every muscle pro¬ 
tested at the strain I’d put on it and I had to stop 
and cry with sheer nervousness now and then. 

There was a light in The Camp when I came in 
sight of it. I thought probably Billy would be 
there or anyway Pryor and I crept up softly to sur¬ 
prise them. Only Tina was asleep by the fire and, 
just as I thought, she was wearing my red kimono. 


211 


212 


The Mystery of Tumult Rock 


“Tina!” I said, shaking her by the shoulder. It 
always takes at least five minutes to get her awake 
and this time I thought I’d have to give it up en¬ 
tirely and let her slumber on till morning. Then I 
remembered how Martha wakes her and I tried it: 

“Git out ob dat, you onry, lazy, no-eount limb 
of Satan, you,” I said, way down in my throat. 

Tina leaped up in the air as though she’d been 
shot and when she came down she began rubbing 
her eyes and looking at me. 

“What are you doing with that red silk kimono 
on?” I asked sternly. I knew that would get her 
thoroughly awake quicker than anything I could 
say to her. 

“I—I’m jes’ awearin’ hit, Miss Pat—’caze—’caze 
—’caze I’d feared de moths git in hit!” 

Wasn’t that a beauty—that excuse? I gave her 


The Mystery op Tumult Rock 


213 


the kimona on the spot and when she’d stopped sput¬ 
tering her thanks I asked for Billy. 

“Mist’ A’mstrong out projectin’ ’round foh you,” 
she said. “Huccome you git outen that Black Pool 
’thout gittin’ drownded ?” 

“I never was in the Black Pool. Where is Mr. 
Humphry ?” 

“He out too. You sutt'ingly did sta’t some ex- 
citementation ’round heah, Miss Pat.” She looked 
at me admiringly as though I had exhibited hither¬ 
to unknown charming qualities. She hasn’t much 
sense—Tina. 

“Hid they tell you what to do in case I came 
back?” I asked. 

“Yas’m, Miss Pat. We wuz to ring de dinnah 
bell.” 

“Go ring it then,’ I said but before she could obey 


214 


The Mystery of Tumult Rock 


I heard Pryor’s voice outside. I put my finger to 
my lips and slipped behind the big winged chair 
which stood in the chimney corner. 

Pryor and Billy came in wearily and it cut my 
heart to see the tired lines in my father’s face. He 
sank into a chair and dropped his head in his hands 
without a word. 

“Tina, you might as well go to bed,” Pryor told 
her. “We won’t go out again tonight—eh, Bill?” 

“I suppose not. We’re not making any progress 
as it is. Every hour makes it more certain that 
those villains—Oh, Humphry, man, my little girl! 
My Pat!” 

Well, of course I couldn’t stand that. I stole 
out from behind the chair and had my arms around 
his neck, laughing and crying all over his coat 
sleeve. 


The Mystery of Tumult Rock 


215 


“Here I am, Billy. Here’s Pat,” I had to say 
over and over before he would believe I was real. 
He hugged me then till I really thought my ribs 
would crack and by and by Pryor had a turn too. 
I was sore all over before I got to bed that night— 
or the next day rather. 

We quieted down after a while and then I told 
Pryor and Billy about the bank. Pryor had had a 
telephone put in, fortunately, but it takes forever to 
get Denver, and daylight was breaking before he got 
the chief of police and explained the matter to him. 
The chief promised to call the bank officials and 
congratulated Pryor warmly on the tip he had given 
him. He had given him indeed! 

Then Pryor called Terminus and had a doctor 
sent up to The Camp as soon as he could get here. 
It was dreadful to think of poor Burr suffering as he 


216 


The Mystery of Tumult Rock 


was over in the cave. I asked Billy if he hadn’t 
better send for an undertaker as well but he said 
that could come later; his chief concern just now 
was with the living, not with the dead. 

He wanted me to go right to bed, but I said I’d 
better go with the doctor to show him where the 
cave was in case Joan didn’t hear. Away back in 
my mind was the question of getting over to Tumult 
again and finally I spoke to Billy about it. He 
didn’t seem terribly concerned. 

“I guess if one small girl can cross that Bridge— 
Oh, Pat, you little heroine, how did you dare?— 
some of us husky men can make it.” 

“But that’s just the point,” I insisted. “It was 
just because I am small and my feet are narrow 
that I could. Your number twelves—” I glanced 


The Mystery of Tumult Rock 


217 


down at his heavy fishing boots—■“couldn’t find 
room for a third of themselves.” 

They didn’t say anything more about it except 
to tell me not to worry, it would be attended to 
some way and by and by the doctor drove up the 
burro path—and a sweet time he had getting up it 
too—and we all walked over to The Bridge. It was 
broad daylight then and easy enough to see. I took 
one look at the thread of rock I’d crossed a few 
hours before and I leaned against Billy so sick and 
dizzy I could hardly stand. 

“There!” he said, half angrily, half tenderly. “I 
knew it would be too much for you. I’ll take you 
right back to The Camp and put you to bed.” 

“No, no,” I begged. “I’m all right, truly I am. 
It was just seeing what it looked like in daylight 
and remembering— I’m better now.” 


218 


The Mystery of Tumult Rock 


Pryor and the doctor were looking for the little 
path below and I had to show it to them at last. 
It just shows how much of a chance we’d ever have 
of being found on Tumult Rock if we’d depended 
on their finding that path. 

Pryor crossed over and in a few minutes he was 
back. 

“The rock’s there all right, and straight and 
smooth as the Rock of Gibralter. What in thun¬ 
der’ll we do?” 

“Let’s call Joan,” I said. “Maybe we can make 
Agnes push it away.” 

So I called, and the men called. We yelled for 
Joan and Burr and last I called Agnes. Not a 
soul answered. 

“What does it mean?” Pryor asked, looking anx- 


The Mystery of Tumult Rock 


219 


iously from Billy to me and from me to the doctor. 
“You’re sure there is no other way to leave Tu¬ 
mult?” 

“Only by airship and I’m afraid there’s no suit¬ 
able landing place there/’ I told him. 

“You don’t think they could have crossed as you 
did, on The Bridge?” the doctor asked. 

I shook my head derisively. Joan would never 
try it, Agnes didn’t want to leave, and how far 
would Burr get with a broken leg? 

It was a puzzling situation, yet it had something 
funny about it too. Those three grown men, two 
of them distinguished in the business world, the 
other high in his profession, all standing there gazing 
helplessly across the chasm. I reckon they’d have 
been there yet if help had not come from an unex¬ 
pected source. It was Tina. 


220 


The Mystery of Tumult Rock 


I didn’t even know she had followed until all of 
a sudden she bobbed up in front, a green sweater 
of Billy’s over the trailing red silk kimono, her wool 
“wropped” for the night. 

“Mist’ A’mstrong, you-all go ovah fust, then Mist’ 
Humphry behime him. Mist’ Humphry climb up on 
Mist’ A’mstrong’s shoulder and git up de big rock 
an’ push hit away.” 

It was just as simple as that. There was hardly 
time to realize the men had crossed before the big 
rock swung out of the chute under Pryor’s strong 
hands. It seems there was just one way you turned 
it to make it move from the groove in which it fitted 
so smoothly. Pryor found that way. 

I led the procession to the cave. There was an 
ominous silence on Tumult that made us all rather 
quiet as we went. I don’t know what we expected 


The Mystery of Tumult Rock 


221 


to see, but it certainly wasn’t the sight that met 
our eyes. Burr, Joan and Agnes, all wrapped in 
blankets side by side and all sound asleep. Did 
yon ever! 

Agnes hadn’t a word to say when she found we 
were there. She came up and felt me all over as 
if to see if I had broken anything, but she spoke 
not one word—to me at least. She answered some 
of the questions Billy put to her and she let the 
men raise the sheet and see poor Mrs. Marchant. 

We had a frightful time getting Burr back to 
The Camp. The doctor had brought his case and 
he set the leg before we left the cave as he was 
afraid to start back with it hanging. He said Agnes 
had done a good job on the rest of his wounds and 
Agnes gave him stare for stare when he looked at 
her. 


222 


The Mystery of Tumult Rock 


We brought Joan back with us but Agnes refused 
to budge. She said she had a right to staj where 
she was; that she hadn’t harmed nobody at no time 
and she’d like to see the color of anybody’s hair 
that tried to take her off that rock against her will. 
I reckon the men thought they had enough of a job 
on hand getting Burr across without tackling her, 
so they let her stay. Billy warned her however 
that we would send the coroner up to see about Mrs. 
Marchant’s body and then she would probably be 
brought down for a witness in case there was an 
inquest. 

“What the good of an inquest?” she asked. “Mrs. 
Marchant died a natural death due to an incurable 
disease. What’s there to witness about in that?” 

Billy said she could tell all that to the coroner, 
and we left her finally alone in the cave. I told 


The Mystery of Tumult Rock 


223 


them there was food enough to take care of her. 

Pryor had the presence of mind to roll the gate¬ 
way rock down into the chasm, leaving the step up 
the chute open forever. I shivered all over when I 
heard the faint sound of it away, away down. I 
thought of something else that might have gone the 
same way. 

Oh, how good The Camp looked to us when we 
came in sight of it that morning! The sun was 
shining on its stained green shingles, the birds were 
chirping and chipmunks were running through the 
trees as though they were mad with joy. Ah Loo 
had a wonderful breakfast waiting for us. Waf¬ 
fles, and fried chicken and rainbow trout all crispy, 
with corn meal and coffee! Nothing ever was so 
good as that coffee. Joan and I ate as though we 
never expected to see food again in this world and 


224 


The Mystery of Tumult Rock 


even Burr, dumped in a heap on the living room 
couch till they could get him to bed, asked for a 
second waffle. 

We were a pretty quiet crowd though. I was dead 
for sleep. Joan still grieved for her mother. Pryor 
had the bank thing on his mind and Billy—well, 
Billy would get up every now and then and kiss me 
in a sort of solemn, perhaps-I’ll-never-see-you-again 
sort of manner. 

I heard the telephone ringing as I crawled into 
bed. I’d had a scalding hot bath and a dose of 
something Billy insisted on my taking, and I was 
ready for the sleep of my life. Joan said she’d take 
a nap after while but she didn’t feel like it then, so 
I curled down into the soft nest of clean white 
sheets and blue blankets, thinking as I did so of 


The Mystery op Tumult Rock 


225 


the bough bed in the hut, and in about two minutes 
I was dead to the world. 


CHAPTER XV 


GROWING PAINS 

I wish I didn’t have to write this chapter. I 
wish I’d never had the material to fill a page of it, 
but I said I was writing this account so that I 
could tell accurately what happened. It isn’t ac¬ 
curate if you don’t tell it all, is it? 

It was late in the afternoon when I woke up. I 
lay for a little while stretching and enjoying the 
feel of rested limbs and an easy mind, when pretty 
soon I heard something that made my mind stop 
being easy right away. It was Joan singing. 

Now of course you’ll want to know why the 
sound of Joan singing should upset me. I’ll tell 
you. She was singing to Burr. Don’t ask me how 


226 


The Mystery of Tumult Rock 


227 


I knew—I just did, that’s all. Right there the mean 
little imp of jealousy which caused me so much 
trouble in the next few days sat up and made a 
face at me and said, 

“I’m here.” 

I ought to have sent him about his business in 
double-quick time. Instead I—well, not exactly 
welcomed him but at least I let him stay. He made 
himself mightily at home. 

I had a cold bath and dressed and went into the 
living room. It was just as I thought. Burr was 
on the couch—they’d said he had to stay in bed, 
but I noticed he wasn’t doing it—and Joan was 
at the piano singing softly. 

“Oh, Pat, did we wake you?” she cried. We wake 
you! do you notice? 

“Hello, Pat darlint,” Burr said. 


228 


The Mystery of Tumult Rock 


“Good morning—or perhaps I’d better say good' 
evening,” I said, strolling over to the fire. “Is it 
pretty near supper time? I’m starved.” 

Joan looked at me sort of queer. 

“Aren’t you going to ask how Mr.—Mr. Burr is, 
Pat?” 

“He looks very well to me,” I answered coolly. 
“Do you want me to ask how you are,—Mr. Burr?” 

“Pat!” Burr said sternly. 

“What?” I said. 

“Do you think you’re behaving well this morn-— 
that is, this afternoon? And after last night too?” 

I was a silly goose to let it hurt me. It must 
have been because I was still upset from the strain 
of the two days before but to have him able to re¬ 
member last night—when last night meant walking 
The Bridge to me and nothing else—well, it was 


The Mystery of Tumult Rock 


229 


just a little too much. I burst into tears and ran 
away, out of the door and down the trail till I came 
smack up in Billy’s arms. 

“Pat! My precious one, what is it?” 

“N-nothing,” I sobbed. “I—just wanted to cry.” 

“Let her,” the doctor laughed, coming up behind 
us. “Glad to see some sign of feminine weakness 
in you, Miss Pat. From all I hear you have pre¬ 
cious few.” 

Hie was coming up to see Burr, and Joan had to 
come out of the living room while he dressed Burr’s 
head. She hunted me up on the porch outside and 
by that time I was calm enough to see what an idiot 
I’d made of myself. It didn’t make me feel any 
kinder to her and Burr though. 

There was lots of news at the table that night. 
The little trap to catch Sam and Spud had worked 


230 


The Mystery of Tumult Rock 


perfectly and they had them both locked safely in 
the Denver jail. I didn’t feel sorry for them one 
bit. Agnes was still on Tumult but there was talk 
of having her locked up in case they needed her to 
testify against her brother. I wish anybody luck 
that tried to make her testify to anything she didn’t 
want to. 

Joan’s mother (Billy told me this after supper 
while I was curled up on the arm of his chair and 
Joan was at the other side of the room) had been 
removed from the cave and taken down to Terminus 
to be sent on to her father in Philadelphia. Billy 
was going to telegraph Mr. Marchant and ask him 
to let Joan stay with us till we broke camp and 
then he’d see her safely on the train for home. 

“How much longer will we be here?” I asked, 
surprised. “I thought you said we were leaving at 


The Mystery of Tumult Rock 


231 


the end of this week.” 

‘‘There’s Burr, you know,” Billy said, nodding at 
the couch where Burr’s brown head was outlined 
against the green leather cushion. “He can’t be 
moved for a while yet and somebody’s got to stay 
with him. I have a particular reason for staying 
on here—unless you feel nervous about it?” he 
added. 

I didn’t and I said so but I couldn’t help wonder¬ 
ing how Burr would view the prospect of having 
Joan sing to him all the time he was getting well. 
He called me over to him before I went to bed. 

“Like me, Pat?” He asked. 

“Pretty well. Nothing extra,” I said. 

His face was pale under the strips of plaster 
and there were dark circles under his eyes. The 
twinkle was there just the same though and sudden- 


232 


The Mystery of Tumult Rock 


ly when I stood there looking down at the face I 
loved so terribly much, I just went all to pieces 
again. I ran to Billy and cried on his shoulder, 
and for the second time that day made a baby of 
myself. 


CHAPTER XVI 


SURPRISES 

“Pat—you Pat!” 

I poked my head out of my bedroom window and 
laughed down at Pryor Humphry. It was nearly 
a week after our return from Tumult Rock and 
Richard was very much herself again. Pryor had 
been down to Denver and just got back that after¬ 
noon. Now he stood outside yelling at me as 
though I were down to Terminus. 

“What is it, Pryor? Anybody killed?” 

“Not so you’d notice it.” He grinned back. “I’ve 
got something—guess what?” 

“Chocolates?” I asked, and right away Tina 
bobbed up behind me. Talk about a sweet tooth! 


233 


234 


The Mystery of Tumult Kock 


All her teeth are sweet. 

“Well—those. But something else.” 

“Pm coming out.” 

lie wouldn’t let me see though. He said he was 
going to do the thing up right at dinner and make 
an occasion of it. He told me to put on my best 
bib and tucker and prepare for the worst—or the 
best, whichever way I looked at it. 

Tina helped me into my white chiffon dress with 
the blue ribbon run through my curls. Billy—and 
Burr too for that matter—likes it the best of any 
of my clothes and I’m sort of partial to it myself. 
Joan was in white too, with a black sash and rib¬ 
bon. Poor Joan! I was trying to be mighty nice 
to her these days. 

He kept me on pins and needles all during din¬ 
ner, the old tease. But when the coffee came in 


The Mystery of Tumult Rock 


235 


and Billy had drawn me to the arm of his chair as 
usual, Pryor motioned to Soo Let and he came in 
with a small tray on which reposed in lonely state 
a white wrapped box. 

“Open it,” Pryor commanded, smiling and puffing 
at his cigar. 

I untied the white satin ribbon and there was a 
beautiful white and silver box. A card lay on it. 

“A small token of appreciation from the 
stockholders and directors of the New 
Western Bank to Miss Patricia Armstrong, 
the heroine to whom many of us undoubt¬ 
edly owe our lives.” 

That is what it said in plain black and white. 
I was so bursting with pride I forgot to open the 
box until Billy reminded me. Then I did and there 


256 


The Mystery of Tumult Rock 


lay the loveliest string of pearls you ever saw in 
your life. The beautiful, creamy dears! I held 
them against my cheek and kissed them till you’d 
have thought I was crazy. 

“What’s all this, Pryor?” Billy asked, a good 
deal startled. “Those are valuable pearls.” 

“Darned valuable,” Pryor said. “They’d better 
be. They’re little enough considering what Pat did 
for those men. If I’d had my way she’d have been 
made a director of the bank herself.” 

“Pat’s already a director and a dictator,” Burr 
said from his couch. “Doesn’t she direct the lives 
of every one here, including yours truly?” 

He could say that and it was very pretty of him 
but the fact remained that Joan had spent every 
morning singing to him and he gave every symptom 
of enjoying her voice. Well, I did myself for that 


The Mystery of Tumult Rock 


237 


matter. It was wonderful and Pryor said if there 
was any difficulty about her resuming her lessons 
(we didn’t know what kind of a person her father 
would turn out to be, you see) he’d finance the 
thing himself and call it an investment. 

But to go back to my pearls. Wasn’t it the love¬ 
liest thing for those men to do? They’d heard the 
story of The Bridge from Pryor and that’s the way 
they took to thank me for saving them from being 
blown up. I’ll always, always keep them, and give 
them to my oldest daughter to give to her oldest 
daughter, and right on down the line. Though if 
Joan keeps on singing to Burr it looks as though 
that first daughter of mine had a mighty poor 
chance of being born. 

That was the first surprise of that week. The 
next was staged on Tumult and as it’s the last time 


238 


The Mystery of Tumult Rock 


I ever expect to set foot on that heap of rocks I’ll 
tell you in detail what happened there. 

Agnes had stayed right along. Sam and Spud 
had confessed—I don’t see what else they could do 
with the dynamite right along with them—and were 
already serving their sentences. We’d just heard 
it that day and Billy said he was going over to Tu¬ 
mult the next morning and tell Agnes about it and 
try to get her to come down to Denver and get a 
job. He said he was willing to help her which I 
thought was mighty kind of him considering every¬ 
thing. 

Joan wouldn’t go with us but Pryor, Billy and I 
went just before noon the next day. It seemed so 
natural to be crossing the path that I expected 
every minute to hear Joan’s voice singing or see 
Sam’s ugly face peeping over the rock at me. 


The Mystery of Tumult Rock 


239 


We found Agnes in the cave. She’d made a regm 
lar little house of it, with the things that were left 
from the hut brought in and all as cosy as you 
please. She looked dreadful, though. Her eyes 
had a sort of wild light in them and she was thin¬ 
ner by a good many pounds. 

Billy told her the news right off. 

“So you see there’s no reason for your hiding 
here any longer, Agnes. Your brother only got 
what he had earned and he is much safer both as 
far as society and his own good are concerned 
where he is than roving about, leading the life he 
was.” 

She took it a lot better than I thought she would. 
She listened very quietly and then she asked how 
long Spud got. 


240 


The Mystery of Tumult Rock 


“Ten years. Sam had Mr. Conway’s murder to 
answer for, you see.” 

She thought for a minute. 

“Nothing that’s found out about Sam now can 
hurt him, can it?” 

“No,” said Billy. “Nothing.” 

“Then I wisht you’d come with me.” 

We followed her around the twists of the path 
until we came to the place where the hut had stood. 
You remember I told you it ran into the mountain 
and there was a sort of hollow space in the rock. 
Agnes stooped over and ran her hands in and pulled 
out a battered tin box. 

“Look what’s in there,” she said. 

I’d been brought in close enough contact with' 
dynamite to be a little cautious about opening 
strange boxes and I begged Billy to be careful. 


The Mystery of Tumult Rock 


241 


“Needn’t worry/’ she sniffed. “Nothing in that 
to hurt you.” 

Billy pulled up the lid, and I had to hide my eyes 
from the flash of light that the sun struck from it. 
Diamonds! A double handful of diamonds, a few 
large, but for the most part small, rattling around 
loose in that battered old tin box. 

“I found these after Sam had went,” Agnes told 
us. “ ‘Low he’s been collectin’ these for several 
years.” 

“H’m, I suppose it isn’t hard to guess how,” Pry¬ 
or said. “I’ll wager there’s many a ring and brooch 
that shows a yawning gap where one of these stones 
used to be. What had we better do with them, 
Bill?” 

“I want they should be taken down to the au¬ 
thorities,” Agnes said before we could any of us 


242 


The Mystery of Tumult Rock 


speak. “Sam’s led a law-breaking life and I start¬ 
ed him on it. I’m going to clean up everything I 
can before I go.” 

“That’s right,” Pryor said soothingly. “Get 
straight with the law before you begin a new life. 
Is there anything else?” 

“Yes,” she said. “You’ll have to come into the 
cave for that.” 

I didn’t like a bit the way she acted. There was 
a sort of dull misery about her, a despair in her 
voice that made me look at her in uneasy specula¬ 
tion as she hurried us into the cave. 

“Do you ’low you can stand this?” she asked me. 
“Your nerves seem stronger than most girls of your 
age.” 

Before I could answer or Billy draw me back 


The Mystery of Tumult Rock 


243 


as I saw he was intending to, she jerked back a 
canvas sheet and there lay a human skeleton. 

“Birds picked him dry and the sun bleached him,” 
she said tonelessly. “Here’s a bullet hole through 
his head, you see. I found him back behind the 
di’mond box.” 

“Sam?” Pryor asked. 

“Oh, yes,” she said without any particular emo¬ 
tion. “He’s been making this place his headquar¬ 
ters for a good many years now. I jest wonder 
why he didn’t shove this here body off into the 
chasm while he was about it ’stead of leaving him 
here.” 

“It was much safer,” Pryor said thoughtfully. 
“People sometimes penetrate the canons from be¬ 
low. Nobody but Sam has ever found the way 
across to Tumult Rock until this summer. Well, I 


244 


The Mystery of Tumult Rock 


suppose we’ll have to report this too. Denver police 
will think business is brisk up here on Tumult.” 

“They’s one thing more you can report, while you 
are reporting,” Agnes said, still in that toneless 
sort of voice. “Sam’s getting all the punishment 
for what I started. If he hadn’t of been ashamed 
of his sister in the first place he’d never have did 
what he done. He's shet up, ’way from the sun¬ 
light and the free air, whilst I can roam here and 
yon as I please. I ain’t got no punishment ’cept 
carrying ’round what I know day and night. 
‘Tain’t enough! The law can’t touch me for what 
I’ve done but I ’low I can punish myself. While 
you’re reporting these here things on Tumult re¬ 
port that Agnes Simms, only sister of Sam Simms 
was killed—” 

I sprang just as she leaped from the rock. I 


The Mystery of Tumult Rock 


245 


knew as well as if she’d told me what she was in¬ 
tending to do. I caught her skirts and held her 
as she had held my foot the night I crossed The 
Bridge. She struggled and kicked but the stout 
canvas of her skirt held and in less than a minute 
Pryor and Billy had her safely on the rock beside 
us. 

“What’d you do it for—what’d you do it for?” 
she moaned over and over again. I always did 
think to try to commit suicide and fail must seem 
like the awfullest anti-climax in the world. 

I was so proud of my Billy then. He put his arm 
around her shoulders and spoke to her as gently 
as though she were a little girl. 

a Poor soul,” he said. “Poor, tortured soul. The 
world has a debt to pay to you, when its treatment 
has driven you to this. That’s not the way to 


246 


The Mystery of Tumult Rock 


peace, poor woman. Come back with us now, and 
start again.” 

Pryor was blowing his nose and snorting around 
like he always does when his feelings get the better 
of him. I followed Billy’s lead as promptly as I 
could. I slipped my arm around her and drew her 
head down on my shoulder. 

“Agnes, dear, you’ve borne enough. It wasn’t your 
fault things went wrong with Sam. If he hadn’t 
had a bad streak in him to start with, nothing you 
could do would have kept him in a life of crime. 
He’s settling his account now—let him do it with¬ 
out the knowledge that the only friend he has on 
earth has left the earth. You can stay with Miss 
Joan or you can come and be our housekeeper. Old 
Martha’s getting slacker and more trifling every 
day and we need somebody to look after things. 


The Mystery of Tumult Rock 


247 


Just think, she never mends a single sheet when it 
is torn,” I added artfully. “Just throws it right 
into the ragbag.” 

Agnes looked at me kind of dazed. 

“My sakes, what shiftlessness,” she said. (We 
found out afterwards that Agnes had belonged to 
a good old New England family and it was the 
war between her granite conscience and her love 
for her good-for-nothing brother that had turned 
her into the strange creature she was.) “Mr. Arm¬ 
strong, are you agreeable to your daughter’s prop¬ 
osition?” she said very formally. 

Billy told her warmly that he was and I might 
as well say right now that Agnes came back to The 
Camp with us, nearly drove the China boys crazy 
investigating the kitchen and pantries and went 
home when we did as housekeeper. Martha hated 


248 


The Mystery of Tumult Rock 


her from the minute she stepped into the house and 
Agnes cordially returned the compliment. Martha 
retired to the position of laundress after a while 
and things went smoother and better at our house 
than they ever had before. Pryor always made Mar¬ 
tha bake biscuits for him, however, when he came 
to dinner. He said the new cook didn’t have the 
same touch that Martha did. 

Agnes has been as near a mother to me as any 
cross-grained old maid could be. She’s watched 
my diet, and clothes, and parties and acquaintances 
like the hawkiest hawk that ever was. But she 
loves me! My goodness, she loves me! I found her 
one day with a little housedress of mine I’d just 
taken off and she was brushing it across her cheek 
as though it was a baby’s downy head. She scowl¬ 
ed at me though when she caught me watching her 


The Mystery of Tumult Eock 


249 


and said if I’d pick up my things when I got out 
of them it would improve the looks of my room con¬ 
siderable. 

I’ve taken Agnes clear down to the lowlands 
and put her to work in our house while she’s still 
standing there before the cave on Tumult. There 
isn’t very much more to say about that place 
though. We cleared out all the things on the rocks 
and in the cave and the police took charge of the 
skeleton. He turned out to be a traveling sales¬ 
man for a jewelry firm and his people thought he’d 
run away with some of those diamonds. They were 
so glad to have his memory cleared it was almost 
a compensation for finding him dead. 

There were some things of Joan’s and her moth¬ 
er’s that Agnes had saved and we took those with 
us. Joan’s father had written that he would be 


250 


The Mystery of Tumult Rock 


glad to have her remain with us until we came down 
from The Camp as he thought the open life and the 
companionship with a young girl would be better 
for her just now than either school or his own rath¬ 
er cheerless home. 

So now I’ve got them all down to The Camp again 
and ready for our last week there. 


CHAPTER XVII 


MINOR MYSTERIES 

This chapter doesn’t properly belong to the Tu¬ 
mult Rock case at all and you may skip it if you’re 
not interested in Tina. It’s Tina’s story—hers and 
Soo Let’s. 

Did you ever watch a darky and a China boy 
getting acquainted for the first time? It’s funny. 
In Missouri we have very few Chinese and it hap¬ 
pened that Tina had never seen one till she came 
to The Camp. She was perfectly fascinated by 
Soo Let at first. He seemed to her a very superior 
kind of darky and she set her cap at him openly. 
I used to hear scraps of conversation that went 
something like this: 


251 


252 


The Mystery of Tumult Rock 


Tina—“Does you-all hab religion dances or sho’- 
nuff dances whah you lib? r ^ 

Soo Let—“No dancee at all.” 

Tina—“M’mp! Not any dancin’? Hit sho’ do 
beat mah time! What you-all do tuh enj’v 
yo’se’fs ?” 

Blank silence on Soo Let’s part. Tina takes a 
new tack. 

Tina—“Is yo’ got a lady frien’, Mist’ Let?” 

Soo Let—“No fiend at all.” 

Tina—with seeming irrelevance but with a dis¬ 
tinct purpose—“I suttinly did tell dat Mose Lewis 
whah be could git off at, I did dat! I says be got 
to treat me lak a lady ur he needn’t come ’round 
at all, beah me tell! I sho’ doesn’t stand fur any 
familiariousness f’um any but mah steady comp’ny, I 


The Mystery of Tumult Rock 


253 


suttinlv does not! Is you lak icescream sociables. 
Mist* Let ?” 

Soo Let—briefly—“No like him.” 

This appeared to bring the conversation to a close, 
but Tina persisted faithfully in her attempts to 
draw out the China boy. His beady eyes would 
follow her as she switched her scant skirts in and 
out of his kitchen and Billy said it would be worth 
a college professor’s while to examine into his men¬ 
tal processes. 

It was the powder episode that broke off Tina’s 
efforts to “make a frien’ ” of Soo Let. I’ve never 
been able to decide whether Soo Let was a subtle 
humorist or the most literal person ever born into 
the world. He came upon Tina powdering her face 
one day with a tiny piece of chamois filched from 
my dressing table. Soo Let’s gaze traveled from 


254 


The Mystery of Tumult Rock 


the small box of powder, flesh tint, to the glossy 
dark expanse of Tina’s face; then he turned and 
disappeared in the direction of the kitchen only to 
reappear with a bucket of whitewash Pryor had 
ordered for the chicken house. He pressed it firm¬ 
ly upon the bewildered Tina. 

“You daubee with this,” he commanded, and was 
safely behind the swinging door when Tina got his 
meaning and hurled the bucket after him. There 
was a cold unfriendliness between them after that. 
It was the affair of the diamonds which broke the 
shell of her reserve. 

Tina had been extremely interested in the finding 
of the diamonds. She confided to me that she con¬ 
sidered our handing them over to the authorities an 
example of weakmindedness on our part which, if 
we had consulted her, she would have strongly ad- 


The Mystery of Tumult Rock 


255 


vised against. 

“I sho’ would put it all ober dat yallar Angeline 
Smiff,” she remarked, as she helped me lace my 
heavy climbing boots. “Dat gal so high stepp in’ 
wif huh blue silk sweateh coat and huh white sa- 
tine ski’t, dar simply ain’t no libin’ ’round huh, 
huh mammy say. Effen I had a dishful of dese heah 
sparkle di’monds I sho’ show dat gal who gwine 
be de belle ob de ball, heah me tell!” 

I didn’t pay any attention to her of course. An¬ 
geline Smith and her wonderful clothes usually fig¬ 
ure largely in Tina’s conversation when she is work¬ 
ing up to the point of asking me for something of 
mine she’s taken a fancy to. I hastily reviewed the 
special objects of her admiration and before I left 
the room I gave her a small pin, set with cheap 
brilliants, that I’d found on the street one day. 


256 


The Mystery of Tumult Rock 


Her usual extravagant gratitude was lacking. 

“Fs talkin ’bout dese real, fo’ sho’ nuff di- 
monds,” she said discontentedly. “De way dem li’l 
stones wink an’ sparkle at you mek you think ob 
stars an’—an’—diamonds.” 

“Well, I certainly haven’t any diamonds to give 
you, Tina,” I said. “And I think you’d better be 
wrenching your thoughts away from jewels and 
getting them down to my walking skirts. They 
haven’t been brushed for a week.” 

“Yas’m,” said Tina, rolling her eyes as she does 
when I scold her. 

Burr called my attention to the fact that Tina 
and Soo Let had patched up their differences and 
were whispering around corners at all hours. I 
caught Tina sneaking a big basket out of the kitch¬ 
en and down the trail and I asked her about it. 


The Mystery of Tumult Rock 257 

She said she was going to fill it with pine cones to 
take home to her mother. Burr thought that was 
real touching and daughterly of her and said I was 
a hard-hearted little wretch to call and ask her 
why it dragged her arm down so if it was empty. 
He doesn’t know Tina as I do. 

Joan and I came home late one afternoon from a 
tramp on Baldy, with just fifteen minutes to get 
dressed for supper. I stuck my head in the door 
and told Ah Loo to send Tina in to me at once. He 
shrugged his shoulders. 

“Tina all gone,” he remarked. 

“Where has she gone? Tell Soo Let to find her 
then.” 

“Soo Let all gone,” he said in precisely the same 
tone. 

Agnes came in just then and helped us change 


258 


The Mystery of Tumult Rock 


and I forgot all about Tina until we sat down. 
Then it developed that Soo Let wasn’t there to wait 
table and Ah Loo had to do it in a towering rage 
and one of the houseboy’s white aprons. 

“An elopement, do you suppose?” Pryor asked, 
as pleased with the idea as if it were his own love 
affair. 

“If Tina’s run away with Soo Let I’ll never let 
her work for us again,” I declared. 

“Very likely she won’t want to,” Billy suggested. 
“We’ll have to hunt them up after supper, Pryor. 
I’m responsible to the girl’s mother and I’m quite 
sure Martha would forbid the banns.” 

So after supper they got out the lanterns—Burr 
said they certainly were working overtime lately— 
and then I remembered Tina’s chatter about the 


diamonds. 


The Mystery op Tumult Rock 


259 


“Do you suppose they could have gone to look for 
more?” I asked. “Maybe Tina thinks there’s a 
diamond mine on Tumult and she’s gone to gather a 
few to outshine the dressy Angelina” 

“Oh, thunder! have we got to hike over to Tu¬ 
mult again tonight?” Pryor groaned. 

We called Ah Loo in and questioned him and it 
appeared that none of the runaways’ clothes were 
missing; only a loaf of bread and half a boiled 
ham, which appeared to grieve Ah Loo far more 
than the loss of his assistant, and two jars of wild 
strawberry jam which Agnes had made that morn¬ 
ing. She was furious when she found those were 
gone. 

I didn’t ask to go with them to Tumult. I was 
through with that place once and for all time. I 
curled up in Pryor’s chair and read “Ma Petten- 


260 


The Mystery of Tumult Rock 


gill,” which in my opinion is the funniest book in 
the English language. Joan sang to Burr of course. 
That goes without saying. 

In a couple of hours the two men came back, 
really worried by now. They’d searched all over 
Tumult and yelled and yelled, but not a soul an¬ 
swered. They’d looked in the cave, and back where 
the hut had stood, but neither Tina nor Soo Let 
was there. 

“That cowardly China boy wouldn’t darst to 
cross anyway,” Agnes said scornfully, appearing in 
the doorway. “I think they’ve gone to the studio.” 

“Why, the studio, for the love of Mike?” Burr 
wanted to know. 

“Tina told me there is a gold mine under it—she 
heard—heard Mr. Conway say so,” Agnes answered, 
hesitating as she always did over that name. 


The Mystery of Tumult Rock 


261 


“What’s the crazy nigger thinking of?” Billy 
said, and then all at once I went off in a spasm of 
laughter. I remembered the night Pryor asked 
Hobart Conway if he’d found a gold mine up there 
and he said there was liquid gold flowing in at the 
doors and windows. 

That settled it. We all—except Burr, of course, 
piled out of the room and up the trail as fast as 
we could go. Sure enough there was a light in the 
studio. 

“Let’s creep up and see what they are up to,” 
Pryor said, as full of mischief as a boy. 

The doors and windows were tight shut, for it was 
as cold as a winter night. We got close enough to 
a window to look in and there was Tina in the one 
chair the room afforded beside the piano bench. 
A funny looking Tina she was. Her hands were 


262 


The Mystery of Tumult Rock 


tied behind her with the scarf from her own middy 
blouse and a handkerchief was stuffed into her 
mouth. Her eyes were rolling pitifully above the 
gag. 

Soo Let was digging industriously under the 
flooring. His tool was Ah Loo’s best carving knife 
and I might mention here that later there was a 
strict accounting for that. On the piano were the re¬ 
mains of the loaf of bread and the ham. The pre¬ 
serve glasses were quite empty. 

“I can’t make out why he’s tied her up like that,” 
Pryor said. “He’s always seemed such a gentle 
soul. Do you think he was afraid she might find 
the loot first?” 

The only way to solve the problem was to go in 
and we did so without any delay. Tina’s eyes 
rolled worse than ever at the sight of us, and Soo 


The Mystery of Tumult Rock 


263 


Let suspended his digging operations and sat back 
on his heels, watching us out of his little beady 
eyes. I think a Chinaman has the most inscrutable 
face in the world. You simply cannot tell what 
he is thinking. 

“What does this mean, Soo Let?” Pryor asked 
sternly. “Why have you tied this girl in this fash¬ 
ion.” 

Soo Let answered very simply. 

“Too much kissee—too much huggee—no can dig,” 
he said. 

Tina burst into a storm of reproach and excuse 
the minute her mouth was free but under my ac¬ 
cusing eye she subsided. She knew that we all 
knew—and that was all there was to it. She came 
back to The Camp very meekly. Soo Let didn’t 


264 The Mystery of Tumult Rock 

have anything more to say about the affair, either 
then or at any other time. 

It gave me one splendid weapon though. When¬ 
ever Tina is impudent or gets her ideas of what be¬ 
longs to her and what belongs to me rather mixed, 
all I have to do is to look off into space and say 
dreamily, 

“Too much kissee—too much huggee—no can dig.” 
It brings the overly demonstrative lady to time 


right away. 


CHAPTER XVIII 


JUST PAT 

“ ‘The Love in my heart is as strong as the hills 
And as deep as the fathomless seas, 

Yet pure as the breath of the rose that thrills 
The Soul of Summer with glee—’ ” 

The Golden Voice floated out from the living 
room at The Camp. I was sitting outside, on a 
seat beneath a big cedar. 

“ ‘Oh, a batfish met a catfish in the sea— 

Said the batfish to the catfish, ‘Sir/ said he— 
‘You are no more like a cat, than I am like a bat, 
’Tis a funny world we live in, sir/ said he.’ ” 

“You Pat, what are you muttering to yourself?” 


265 


266 


The Mystery of Tumult Rock 


Pryor asked, coming up to take a seat beside me. 

“Running in opposition to the living room,” T 
answered him. 

“ ‘Oh, love, love, love, there is nothing so sweet, 
Go search all the wide world through. 

My heart is so full of it, every beat 
Cries out, ’tis all for you.’ ” 

“I sent a message to the fish: 

I told them, ‘This is what I wish.’ 

The little fishes of the sea 
They sent a message back to me.’ ” 

“Pat, stop it! You’re acting like a lunatic.” 
Then he caught sight of my face and said in quite 
another tone, “You aren’t letting it bother you 
really ?” 

“Letting what bother me?” I asked. 


The Mystery of Tumult Kock 


267 


He jerked his head toward the house. 

“That—in there? Joan’s singing to Burr all the 
time?” 

“She doesn’t sing to him all the time,” I said 
carefully, trying to be fair. “Sometimes she comes 
for a walk with you and sometimes she spends as 
much as half an hour at a time with me.” 

“Are you being sarcastic, Pat?” 

“No, why?” 

“Then it doesn’t bother you—Joan’s attentions to 
Burr ?” 

“Certainly not,” I answered, holding my head 
high. 

“Well, it does me,” he said unexpectedly. “Yes, 
I mean it,” he went on answering my accusing 
glance. “I’m head over heels in love with her, Pat. 


268 


The Mystery of Tumult Rock 


Just plain foolish over a chit half my age. What 
would you advise?” 

I looked at him in astonishment. I never once 
thought of Joan’s getting his heart though I re¬ 
member now that he was always hanging about 
when she sang and that he hadn’t said a word about 
the important business that was to call him from 
The Camp. Instead, it was Billy who had gone 
and I was to stay up with Joan and Agnes and 
Pryor till Burr was able to travel. 

“Pryor, I don’t know,” I said thoughtfully. “I 
never once considered you as a—a—” 

“As a lover?” he said smiling. “I admit it’s a 
little out of my line. I loved a girl once,” he went 
on meditatively, “I was nineteen then and she 
was twenty-two. I thought she knew the condition 
of my heart and I didn’t bother to tell her. She 


The Mystery op To mult Rock 


269 


married a man forty years old and never even an¬ 
nounced her engagement to me. I told her about 
it when she had been married twelve years or so 
and had an assorted family and she said she’d al¬ 
ways thought I rather disliked her. I don’t want 
to make any such mistake this time.” 

“Tell her about it then. You’d better hurry too. 
Listen to that.” 

“ ‘When the dawn flames in the sky, 

I love you—’ ” 

“I wonder if she does,” Pryor thought aloud. “I 
don’t see how she can—the callow young simp.” 

“Burr isn’t a simp and he isn’t callow,” I said 
indignantly. “He’s the finest, bravest, most won¬ 
derful—” 

“Look here, Pat, do you love Burr?” 


270 


The Mystery of Tumult Rock 


He took my chin in his hand and looked into my 
eyes. Meeting that kindly, affectionate glance and 
remembering all he’d been to me I told the truth 
straight out. 

“I do love him,” I said honestly. 

“With your whole heart?” 

“Oh, with all of me, Pryor. With my heart and 
my mind and the part of me that appreciates beau¬ 
ty and—and—” 

“He’s a fine fellow,” he interrupted, a little in¬ 
consistently, it seemed to me. “A fine fellow. I’d 
like to see him happy.” 

“Don’t be too sure of that,” I warned him. “Hap¬ 
piness for him may include unhappiness for your¬ 
self.” 

“You think there’s danger then?” 


The Mystery of Tumult Rock 


271 


“Well, you’ve heard for yourself—” I shrugged 
my shoulders. 

“Oh, that singing business doesn’t mean anything. 
She’s just trying to give the poor boy some enjoy¬ 
ment now that he’s laid up and she naturally selects 
things she’s been trained on.” 

“They must teach nothing but love songs in the 
music schools then,” I said bitterly. “Listen.” 

“ ‘A little love, a little kiss, 

I would give my life for this,’ ” 

—rang clearly out in liquid tones. 

“Come along in with me,” said Pryor. “You’re 
sitting out here trying to turn your little self into a 
cynic; what’s the feminine of cynic?” 

“There isn’t any,” I said lightly. “They’re all 
men.” 


272 


The Mystery of Tumult Rock 


Joan looked up from the piano and Burr from 
the couch with what I am bound to admit were 
welcoming glances. Burr was nearly well, except 
for his leg which was in a plaster cast and his tem¬ 
per which ought to have been. 

“Been out for a tramp ?” he said longingly. 
“Jove! to think of being able to get around the 
mountains again! It’s—it’s—Hades, being laid up 
like this.” 

“It’s your own fault,” I told him provokinglv. 
“If you hadn’t come poking around Tumult Rock 
you’d be down in New York today in the ‘effete’ 
east. I’ve always wanted to ask you just what 
‘effete’ means,” I went on. “I don’t think it’s at 
all a pretty word.” 

He ignored my foolishness. 

“I’d like to know how you figure out that I was 


The Mystery of Tumult Rock 


273 


to blame for this leg,” he said. “Wasn’t it broken in 
your service? What was I looking for on Tumult 
if it wasn’t a certain little curly haired torment 
that had escaped her natural guardians?” 

“Meaning Pryor and Billy, I suppose,” I said 
coolly. “I’ll tell you what you were looking for— 
the Golden Voice of Tumult Rock.” 

There was a short silence in the living room. 
Joan had gone outside with Pryor and I could hear 
her low laugh in reply to some nonsense of his. 

“Pat,” Burr said, very low and with a note I 
didn’t like in his voice, “Pat, do you really think 
it was—Joan I was looking for?” 

“No, of course I don’t,” T said abruptly. “Why, 
you hadn’t heard her sing then.” 

“I’m glad you acquit me of that charge,” he said. 


274 


The Mystery of Tumult Rock 


“Poor Joan—no wonder she likes to sing love songs 
to me all day.” 

“Oh, you admit it, then,” I flashed. “She is sing¬ 
ing love songs to you?” 

Burr laughed. 

“When you set out to be jealous, Pat, you do it 
thoroughly, don’t you? Listen now, bad child, and 
be ashamed. Joan is losing her heart to our host 
and she has to take it out on somebody, so as I’m 
the handiest I get the results. Lovely results, too,” 
he added complacently. 

There didn’t seem to be any answer to this so I 
didn’t make any. Then I remembered what he’d 
hinted about Pryor. 

“Is Joan really in love with Pryor, do you think? 
How can she? He’s so old. But it’s all right be¬ 
cause he just told me he’s in love with her.” 


The Mystery of Tumult Rock 275 

“It’s a match then,” Burr said. “Had we better 
notify them of their mutual sentiments or do you 
think they can be trusted to discover them in the 
course of time?” 

“You must never meddle with a love affair,” I 
told him wisely. “It’s like pulling open a rose to 
see why it doesn’t bloom.” 

“Sometimes it’s such a long time blooming 
though,” he said. “Sometimes the rose keeps itself 
curled into a tight bud, with prickly thorns for all 
newcomers until you begin to despair of its ever 
opening.—Pat!” 

“What?” 

“Do you love me?” 

I looked at him, and his eyes had their dear 
twinkle that I loved and yet which angered me at 


the same time. 


270 


The Mystery of Tumult Rock 


“That’s not fair, Burr Thomas,” I said. “Sup¬ 
posing I say yes, and then you say that you like me 
too in a brotherly sort of way but as for anything 
else—” 

“Pat—you demon,” Burr cried. “Oh —dwrn this 
leg! Why can’t I catch you and punish you as you 
deserve? Pat—you Pat, come right here this min¬ 
ute or I shall call Agnes!” 

“I’ll come, Mist’ Burr,’ said Tina, and there came 
that wretch out from the bedroom where she’d been 
listening all the time. “Miss Pat, she do care fo’ 
you something seand’lous, Mist’ Burr. She hab 
you-all’s picture on huh dresseh and she kiss hit 
mos’ ebery night.” 

“Catch,” Burr said briefly, and a shining five 
dollar gold piece went flying across the room. 
“Now git, Tina; vamose, vanish, disappear!” 


The Mystery of Tumult Kock 


277 


I stood on the other side of the room, my head 
hanging, my cheeks burning. 

“Pat,” said a voice from the couch, “if you aren’t 
over here in just three seconds by my watch you’ll 
have a lame husband all your life, for I shall get 
up and go to you. Will you come?” 

So I came, and presently I lifted my hot face 
from his shoulder and said, 

“Are you sure, Burr, it’s I you want? There are 
so many girls who would be glad to get you—older 
girls—prettier girls—” 

“A fig for all your aged, good-looking damsels,” 
Burr said, kissing my curls between words. “I’ve 
got the girl of girls—the only girl in the world for 
me—just Pat.” 


The End 


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